Son of Lynley: Sins of the Father
by Mejhiren
Summary: A proposed sequel series to ILM, introducing two significant new characters and interesting new dimensions to Lynley and Havers' relationship - an  eventual  Lynley/Havers fic with serious issues of delayed gratification! Future eps  hopefully  to follow!
1. An Introduction, Optional but Desirable

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**__**Author's Foreword/Introduction**_

** DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments. Also, in the interest of readability, I have retained more of a "story" than "script" format, complete with the infamous parentheticals, so please bear with it.

This project was born out a combination of factors, namely: certain plot details from the episode "Payment in Blood" (series 2) and my sister's recognition of the strong resemblance, in both appearance and mannerism, between Christian Coulson (best known as Tom Riddle in _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_)and Nathaniel Parker. In our madcap minds, Thomas Crawford is and could only ever be played by Christian, and since he was passed over to reprise his role in _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_, it's high time someone offered him a breakthrough role of his own. Not to mention, with the BBC axing _Lynley_, what better time for a spin-off segue? (This means, if you like what you read, forward demands to BBC or PBS, telling them you've stumbled across an awesome _Lynley_ spin-off and you want to see it on the air. In the meantime, I'll be figuring out how I can do the same without being sued for all I'm worth. )

**(SPOILERS ahead for fans who haven't seen US series 4-6!) **_Son of Lynley: Series 1_ is set loosely during the 5th US series of _The Inspector Lynley Mysteries_ (i.e., between "Natural Causes" and "In the Blink of an Eye"), as that was the point in the Lynley timeline when I began serious work on this project, but with very few adjustments, it could take place after the show's final episode ("Know Thine Enemy"). Havers has recovered from her shooting and is starting to grow her hair out ;D; Lynley and Helen are separated but Helen is (significantly) still alive and played (when occasion calls for it) by Lesley Vickerage. Lynley and Havers are of course intended to be played by Nathaniel Parker and Sharon Small, respectively, and Thomas Crawford by Christian Coulson. John Crawford has, in my mind, always been David Bradley (who has, curiously enough, acted with both Parker and Coulson), and though I've yet to stumble across the perfect incarnation of Adele, I'd like nothing more than for Young Lynley to be a cameo by the exquisite Ben Barnes, whose performance in _Stardust_ as a young Nathaniel Parker literally made my heart skip a beat with its uncanny accuracy.

**One final note:**While it may not seem so at the outset, _Son of Lynley_ is indeed a Lynley/Havers 'ship (originally published on the Yahoo group page "Inspector Lynley: The Punch & Judy Show," if anyone's keeping track). The pilot episode – the introduction of Thomas and Adele Crawford – serves as a catalyst for events in the subsequent episodes. Trust me – a little delayed gratification never hurt anyone. :D


	2. Gorgeous Women and their Sons

_**Son of Lynley:**__** A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series****  
****Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"**_

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**EXT. OXFORD. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – NIGHT.  
****NOVEMBER, PRESENT DAY.  
**

_A laughing, beautiful couple in trendy evening apparel is hurrying down the sidewalk to escape the rain. DETECTIVE CONSTABLE THOMAS CRAWFORD – dark-haired and startlingly handsome, in his mid-20s – has one arm curled around ADELE CRAWFORD, his mother – a stunning black-haired woman in her early 40s – who is holding a waxed carton of chips and eating one, now and again, between sprints and giggles._

ADELE  
Did you see his face?

THOMAS  
I know! You'd think gorgeous women never went out with their sons.

_They duck under the awning of the narrow brick building and ADELE unlocks the glass front door._

**INT. ADELE'S FLAT. BEDROOM – NIGHT.  
**

_THOMAS is sitting on the bed in an opulent gem of a bedroom, calmly inhaling chips. His formerly elegant mother emerges from the adjacent bathroom a few moments later, dressed in cozy flannel pajamas with her damp curly hair drawn back in a knot. She eyes the nearly empty chip carton, then her son, accusingly._

THOMAS  
_(defensively)  
_You had dinner already!

ADELE  
_(retorting, albeit with great affection)  
_So did you! Anyway, that was hours ago…

_She plops companionably beside him and snatches up the last three chips. As she eats them, she sighs and leans against his shoulder, and her eyes wander to the door of the wardrobe opposite, against which hangs a diaphanous white evening gown. THOMAS follows her line of vision and curls his free arm around her in response._

THOMAS  
_(gently)  
_You've been ready for this for years, mum.

_She gives him a sad smile._

ADELE  
I know, Tommy. I just can't believe it's finally come.

_She tucks her cheek against his shoulder, closing her eyes. He presses a kiss to her forehead, then studies the wall opposite for a moment with an oddly tense expression. _

THOMAS  
_(carefully)  
_You wish Dad were here to see it?

_She exhales in a long, uneven breath and opens her eyes, which are tearless but not without sorrow. She does not look at her son as she replies._

ADELE  
Yeah. Yeah, I do.

**INT. FINNEGAN'S FLAT – NIGHT.**

_KIP FINNEGAN, mid-40s, handsome in a rough-cut way with a dark, sullen look about him, walks through his living room, in which his three FRIENDS are in the midst of a fierce card game, Stella Artois in every free hand. His girlfriend KATHERINE BRAMWELL, a quietly pretty dark-haired woman in her early 30s, is sitting on the sofa on the fringe of said game. She looks up as he bends to collect the empty bottles from the table._

KATHERINE  
Kip?

_BRENNAN, one of FINNEGAN's friends, remarks:_

BRENNAN  
Yeah, mate, what's to do? Are you in or out this round?

FINNEGAN  
_(distractedly)  
_I'll sit this one out, thanks.

_He goes into the kitchen and throws the bottles into the bin, perhaps a bit more forcefully than necessary, then drags a hand through his hair as he looks down at a newspaper clipping on the counter. KATHERINE approaches silently behind him and rests a hand on his back._

KATHERINE  
What is it, love?

_He does not look up._

FINNEGAN  
_(blunt but not cruel)  
_Nothing. Go back to your game.

_Her eyes, made keen by concern, do not miss the page on which his gaze is resting, and her tone reflects a certain degree of frustration._

KATHERINE  
Why can't you just let it go?

_He does look up then to level glances with her._

FINNEGAN  
_(evenly)  
_You know why, Katie.

_She presses her lips together in what could either be bitten-back rage or barely contained tears._

KATHERINE  
_(caustically)  
_Just don't be all night about it, would you? Your mates are here to play cards with you, not chat me up.

_She walks back to the living room. As she leaves, FINNEGAN leans back from the counter a bit and the newspaper clipping is clearly visible; it features a photograph of ADELE CRAWFORD and the headline "Local Artist Wins Early Acclaim – Tate Expected Wednesday Night."_

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT – NIGHT.**

_JOHN CRAWFORD, a grizzled man in his mid-60s, is reading a newspaper in his tattered recliner, bowl of crisps in hand. The room is threadbare, unwelcoming, and hopelessly out-of-date, save for some curiously brilliant abstract paintings on one wall and a kitchen table spread with a canvas-in-progress, tubes of paint, and a palette knife. The television is set to Channel 4, though CRAWFORD, caught up in his newspaper, is not paying it the slightest heed. _

_THOMAS CRAWFORD, damp and slightly disheveled from the rain, unlocks the door and comes inside. CRAWFORD glances up briefly._

CRAWFORD  
_(gruffly and void of affection)  
_How's your mum?

_THOMAS thinks aloud as he peels out of his wet jacket._

THOMAS  
Nervous. Happy. And utterly gorgeous. Good night, Granddad.

_THOMAS flashes the older man the smallest of smiles as he disappears into his bedroom. He deposits a set of keys on his nightstand before turning to close the door to begin preparing for bed. The focus of the scene (sadly) returns to CRAWFORD, who looks down again at the paper – in particular, the same article that held FINNEGAN's interest earlier – then leans back into his chair and sighs._

**EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – NIGHT.**

_DAVEY GILCHRIST, mid-30s, portly and plain, walks up to the glass front doors of his gallery and peers inside for a few moments – long enough to ascertain that all is well within._

GILCHRIST  
_(under his breath)  
_Bloody prankster.

_He unlocks the door and is about to open it when he is seized from behind. A dark-clad FIGURE clamps one gloved hand over GILCHRIST's mouth and with the other drives a short blade into GILCHRIST's chest. The aim is poor and GILCHRIST gives a muffled cry against the grip over his mouth, but the FIGURE continues in its assault, stabbing blindly from behind at GILCHRIST'S chest till he slumps against the FIGURE._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – NIGHT.**

_The gallery is dark but for a few emergency lights, by which one can just make out the ethereal Pre-Raphaelite-style paintings covering the walls and a bit of the corresponding décor: iridescent draperies, tulle-covered pouf chairs, etc. The scene is breathtaking for its sheer beauty – and then one sees the FIGURE in dark clothing, tugging something across the floor. The FIGURE bends down to shift its burden – DAVEY GILCHRIST'S BODY – onto its front with gloved hands, then rises to its feet._

**INT. ADELE'S FLAT. BEDROOM – MORNING.**

_ADELE, her long hair drawn back in a loose ponytail of curls, is standing before her bedroom mirror in a black tracksuit, applying the lightest touches of mascara. As she leaves her bedroom one can just glimpse a framed photograph – a little boy (later revealed to be YOUNG THOMAS CRAWFORD) standing in front of a vast manor – on her dresser. She retrieves her coat from the back of a chaise longue, unlocks the flat door, goes out onto the landing, closes and locks the door behind her, and goes downstairs, a little excitedly, to GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – MORNING.**

_ADELE pauses a moment at the gallery's edge, smiling as she takes in the exquisite room in a sweeping glance. She begins walking toward the glass front doors when she stops short at the sight a pair of legs (belonging to a BODY) sprawled on the floor behind one of the pouf chairs; she approaches cautiously and turns over the BODY, revealing it to be that of DAVEY GILCHRIST. His face is colorless and his shirt is saturated with blood which has emanated from several wounds on his chest. The wooden handle of the murder weapon is protruding from his chest in the approximate region of his heart._

ADELE  
Oh my God…Davey?

(Cue theme song: "The Walk" by Imogen Heap)

_It's not meant to be like this / Not what I planned at all,  
__I don't want to feel like this / Yeah,  
__No it's not meant to be like this / Not what I planned at all,  
__I don't want to feel like this / So that makes it all your fault._


	3. The Story Starts Common Enough

**_Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. THOMAS'S BEDROOM – MORNING.**

_THOMAS CRAWFORD is in his bedroom, pulling on a suit jacket over his open-necked white oxford shirt – the last detail to complete a professional but not starched appearance. As he leaves the bedroom, he brushes an affectionate hand across a framed photograph on the dresser (himself with ADELE, presumably recent), then he walks through the living room, snatches his coat off a peg by the door, and exits the flat._

**INT. THE TANGLED HARE – MORNING.**

_THOMAS arrives at the rear exit of a spacious, cozy pub – the very antithesis of the flat above. He remarks toward the pub's kitchen door –_

THOMAS  
I'll be back at six.

– _and exits the pub._

**EXT. OXFORD. ST ALDGATE'S STREET – MORNING.**

_THOMAS is walking down the street of an old, gothic city, slowly recognizable (by its landscape and dreaming spires) as Oxford. He approaches and walks inside a long brick building marked "Police." _

**INT. THAMES VALLEY OXFORDSHIRE POLICE STATION – MORNING.**

_THOMAS passes two deferential uniformed CONSTABLES en route –_

ROGERS  
DC Crawford.

PARFITT  
Sir.

THOMAS  
Rogers. Parfitt.

– _to the desk of SERGEANT DAVID MCALLISTER, a stocky older man in his mid-50s, who is standing behind said desk speaking quietly with NEWBOLD, a third uniformed CONSTABLE.._

THOMAS  
Morning, sir – Newbold. What's the latest?

_MCALLISTER looks at him gravely._

MCALLISTER  
Tom…

_NEWBOLD carefully evades THOMAS's eyes._

MCALLISTER  
There was a murder at the Galleria this morning…

THOMAS  
(_suddenly stricken)  
_What-?

MCALLISTER  
She's fine, Tom. Met's on their way –

THOMAS  
Where is she? Let me see her!

_He shoves past his sergeant and the lackey and runs to the windowed interview room, where ADELE sits, looking a bit stricken herself. He wastes no time in opening the door and bursting in._

**INT. POLICE STATION. INTERVIEW ROOM – MORNING.**

THOMAS  
Mum!

ADELE  
Tommy!

_She jumps up from her chair and grabs him in a frantic hug, from which it seems he will never be let go._

ADELE  
Oh God, Tommy…

_He holds her so tightly that neither of them should be able to breathe._

THOMAS  
Are you all right?

ADELE  
Yeah, I'm fine, just a little shook…Davey, though…

_She draws a ragged breath; he moves back slightly to look into her face._

THOMAS  
Davey Gilchrist? That's who was killed?

ADELE  
_(nods numbly)  
_Oh God, Tommy, I don't know what happened; I came downstairs and there he was, on the gallery floor…  
(_trails off hopelessly.)_

THOMAS  
It's all right, Mum; we'll get it sorted.  
_(sighs)  
_Did you see anything? Anyone?

ADELE  
No…just Davey.

_She shudders at the memory._

THOMAS  
Have they taken your statement?

ADELE  
Not yet. I only got here a little before you. McAllister said something about a team from London…?

THOMAS  
No doubt. Let's get your story first thing and maybe you won't have to suffer through a full interrogation when they arrive.  
_(smiles reassuringly)  
_Tea?

ADELE  
_(sad answering smile)  
_Thanks, Tommy.

**EXT. POLICE STATION – MID-MORNING.**

_A "flash" 1968 Bristol 410 pulls over in front of the station._

**INT. LYNLEY'S CAR – MID-MORNING.**

_The occupants are __DETECTIVE INSPECTOR THOMAS__ LYNLEY, perfectly turned out in a suit, sans tie and two collar buttons, and __DETECTIVE SERGEANT BARBARA__ HAVERS, who is dressed more casually and just slightly rumpled about the edges._

HAVERS  
Sure you won't come in, sir?

LYNLEY  
They don't need both of us to interview an overwrought woman – and I want to get to the gallery before the local team has a chance to make a muddle of the scene.

HAVERS  
I'll see you out there, then.

_She gets out of the car and approaches the station._

**INT. POLICE STATION – MID-MORNING.**

_HAVERS takes the same route that THOMAS CRAWFORD took earlier and as such quickly arrives at MCALLISTER's desk_

HAVERS  
Morning, sir. DS Havers.

_She briefly shows her identification then begins to return it to her pocket._

HAVERS  
You must be –

_She looks up at a sound to see THOMAS CRAWFORD – who is strikingly similar to LYNLEY in appearance – approaching and drops her badge with a –_

HAVERS  
_(startled)  
_Oh my God.

_THOMAS hurriedly bends to retrieve the ID for her._

THOMAS  
Are you all right, Sergeant?

_Mortified by her reaction, HAVERS immediately recollects herself, though her eyes remain, keen and curious, on THOMAS, as she takes back her ID and puts it away._

HAVERS  
Yeah, sorry. You – gave me a start, is all.

MCALLISTER  
Sergeant Havers, this is DC Thomas Crawford. Tom – Sergeant Barbara Havers from the Met.

_They shake hands. _

HAVERS  
Thomas…  
_(to self, with a wry chuckle)  
_That's uncanny.

_Neither MCALLISTER nor THOMAS takes note of this remark._

MCALLISTER  
His mum, Del Crawford, is our lone witness for the moment. We've held her for you and – is Lynley on his way?

_THOMAS perks up at mention of this name._

HAVERS  
Headed to the scene, sir.

MCALLISTER  
_(without sarcasm)  
_I'm sure you can question her sufficiently on your own.  
_(to THOMAS)  
_Nobody really suspects her of the murder, but…  
_(back to HAVERS)  
_As I said, she's all we've got.  
_(back to THOMAS)  
_Tom, d'you wanna run down and meet DI Lynley at the Galleria? Fairchild's there, of course, with SOCO, but –

THOMAS  
_(visibly delighted at this suggestion)  
_My pleasure, sir. Sergeant Havers.

_She nods to him, then watches as he expeditiously seizes his coat and hurries out the door. The moment he is gone she turns back to MCALLISTER._

HAVERS  
_(more offhandedly than interrogative, though she is clearly intensely curious)  
_What's his story – DC Crawford?

MCALLISTER  
_(shakes his head)  
_Brilliant officer. Set to transfer to your territory after Christmas, matter of fact.

HAVERS  
Really?

MCALLISTER  
Half the reason they sent you down, I think – to observe him a bit. Test the lad's mettle on a more sensational case. See if he keeps his head.  
_(at her look)  
_Not that I've any qualms, mind. Tell the truth, I'm amazed we've kept him this long. He should have been off to the Met three years ago – or else taken my job.  
_(pauses a moment)  
_Claims his dad was a DI, actually.

HAVERS  
_(a little too eagerly)  
_Who, sir?

MCALLISTER  
Don't know. Don't even know if the DI bit's true, and the lad doesn't either.

HAVERS  
Then how –?

MCALLISTER  
Tom never knew his dad. Doesn't even know his name, or so he claims; granddad let slip the bit about him bein' an Inspector, apparently, but his mum's never said a word one way or t'other, and she's the only one who knows.

HAVERS  
_(now puzzled and very curious)  
_Sir?

MCALLISTER  
Story starts common enough. Del's dad ran – still runs – a pub called The Tangled Hare. Del was an artist – damn good and damn serious 'bout havin' a proper go at it. Her dad saved a bundle, she passed all the right A-levels, went for a term at The Ruskin and came home pregnant at Christmas.

HAVERS  
That's not so unusual.

MCALLISTER  
Well, is and it isn't. All Del ever wanted was to study art at Oxford, and even these days The Ruskin only takes twenty. Why throw it all away on a first-term fling?

_HAVERS shrugs._

MCALLISTER, CONT.  
Anyway, old Crawford was furious. Wanted to hunt down the boy, but Del wouldn't have it. Caught the first train south and nobody saw her again till Tom here was 15 and thinkin' of Oxford for himself. Del's dad – Tom's granddad – agreed to front Tom's uni fees if the lad worked in the pub and moved into his granddad's flat above; Del didn't want it, o' course, but they were short on blunt and she could scarce afford a one-bedroom flat for herself. Ended up Tom never went to uni; after his granddad let slip the bit about his dad bein' a Detective Inspector, Tom abandoned art school and trained for the police straightaway.

HAVERS  
That's a bit of a drastic change.

MCALLISTER  
_(chuckles)  
_Wasn't sure what we'd do with him at first, tell the truth. Used him as a sketch artist for a bit before composites took over – and we saw that he was a hell of a lot cleverer than most of our established detectives.  
_(fondly)  
_He's got an eye and an instinct, that one. Likely to make DI himself before long – and he's got the mind to pursue it, since his granddad's gone and blabbed.

HAVERS  
_(processing this)  
_So the grandfather knows? About Crawford's dad, I mean.

MCALLISTER  
Has to. Everyone's got a theory, o' course. Crawford's pub's always been popular with the uni crowd.

HAVERS  
You think it was a boy from the university?

MCALLISTER  
_(shrugs)  
_Del loved everything about it, and if there was a lad who happened to be a student…  
_(trails off meaningfully)  
_Anyway, there was a fair band of them at that point – summer of '84, would've been. More than a few posh blokes.

HAVERS  
You seem to know a bit of the situation. Were you here that summer, sir?

MCALLISTER  
I was a brand new constable then – too busy kissin' my sergeant's arse to pay much attention to the love affairs of uni blokes and teenage artists.

HAVERS  
Did you know any of the boys who came to the pub?

MCALLISTER  
By name only.  
_(frowns, thinking back)  
_Kip Finnegan gave us a bit of trouble. Glorified vandal, really, that one – though apparently that passes as bona fide art these days.  
_(pauses in thought)  
_There was Gerry Middleton, Peter Cavanaugh – Tommy Lynley, o' course –

HAVERS  
_(breaks in)  
_Lynley?

MCALLISTER  
_(with a patronizing smile)  
_Not a chance, ma'am. Heir to an earldom and the pubkeeper's daughter? That only works in storybooks.

_HAVERS has the grace to look a little ashamed; MCALLISTER smiles, more forgivingly._

MCALLISTER, CONT.  
'Sides, no one remembers seeing 'em together – or even lookin' in each other's direction. Del was always buried in her books behind the counter, and Lynley was the golden boy, center in a crowd of equally posh friends. Anyway, he's your partner; you know better than I: is he the type to shag and run?

_HAVERS has the continued grace to flinch at the suggestion of LYNLEY "shagging" anyone, even though once upon a time she would have affirmed this suggestion wholeheartedly. She shakes her head._

HAVERS  
No, sir.

MCALLISTER  
You could always ask Del about it. No guarantee she'll tell you a thing, but you never know.

HAVERS  
Thank you, sir.

_She approaches the window of the interview room and gives ADELE, who is sipping tea from a foam cup while still managing to look beautiful, a thorough looking-over. HAVERS sighs, for reasons unknown, and opens the door._

**INT. POLICE STATION. INTERVIEW ROOM – MID-MORNING.**

_HAVERS walks into the room and crosses to the table where ADELE is sitting._

HAVERS  
Adele Crawford? I'm DS Barbara Havers from the Met.

_ADELE looks up at her, markedly relieved._

ADELE  
You're much less terrifying than I'd expected – if you don't mind my saying so, Sergeant.

HAVERS  
_(smiles)  
_We don't want to make this any more uncomfortable for you than it already is.

_She sits down and opens her omnipresent notebook._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Now – can you recount for me what happened this morning, as you saw it?

ADELE  
Yeah, of course.  
_(thinks back)  
_I came downstairs – I live in the flat above the gallery – about half-eight. I was excited; my exhibition was supposed to be having its grand opening tonight, and I was on my way out for a coffee. I gave the place a quick glance-over and was walking to the front door when I saw – Davey. He was lying on the floor, face down. I turned him over – he was dead. Stabbed with a knife or something, more than once. There was…a lot of blood.

HAVERS  
You called the police straightaway?

ADELE  
Yeah – they sent a constable round to get me. Not Tom – my son – he wasn't in yet.  
_(by way of explanation)  
_He's a Detective Constable.

HAVERS  
Yeah, we just met.  
_(smiles)  
_Does you proud, I'd wager. How did you know the victim?

ADELE  
He ran the gallery, so he was sort of managing my exhibition. And my landlord – he owned the building, which includes my flat.

HAVERS  
Is that all?

ADELE  
_(embarrassed)  
_We went out for dinner last night – not a date or anything, though Davey wanted it to be. Just – to celebrate the opening of the exhibition.

HAVERS  
What happened after dinner?

ADELE  
_(blushes painfully)  
_I called Tom from the ladies'. Davey…well, it was obvious he wanted to go home with me, and… not that I wasn't capable of saying no, but…I guess I was a little worried, what with Davey being a bit well-to-go. I asked Tom to meet us outside the restaurant and told Davey I had another engagement. Tom and I went for chips, came back a little after midnight. He saw me into my flat; I went to bed.

HAVERS  
You didn't hear anything suspicious – noises of a struggle from downstairs?

ADELE  
No, nothing.

HAVERS  
Does Davey have any enemies that you know of? Someone who might want him dead?

_ADELE contemplates this for a moment or two._

ADELE  
I hardly knew him that well. He was a bit of a lech, if you hadn't guessed, but I can't imagine anyone hating him enough to kill him, let alone in the middle of his own gallery.  
_(pauses in thought)  
_The only person I ever knew to pick a fight with him was Kip – Kip Finnegan. He's a local artist – graffiti on canvas, basically – though he's insanely good at making legitimate showpieces of it.  
_(by way of explanation)  
_Kip was third-year at The Ruskin when I started, so I barely knew him, really. His was the last exhibition at the Galleria before mine, and he was hoping for an extension, but Davey'd already booked me through New Year.

HAVERS  
So Finnegan had a case against both you and Davey. And…  
_(pauses in thought)  
_Would he still have had a key? You didn't mention any damage to the gallery, as though someone had broken in.

ADELE  
_(as a realization)  
_There was none, that I recall – but I doubt Kip would still have a key. Davey was pretty particular about things like that. And really –

_She winces at the recollection of her harsh words._

ADELE, CONT.  
Kip's a decent guy. A little scary at first glance, I suppose, owing to his art medium, but he would never have killed Davey. Just before his exhibition ended at the Galleria, he landed a prime booking at Modern Art –  
_(elaborating for HAVERS's benefit)  
_– sorry: the museum of Modern Art, here in Oxford – and, last I heard, he was making a fair bit off commissioned paintings.

HAVERS  
Don't worry. We're not going to arrest him without cause – and I don't have to mention your name.

_She pauses to make a notation in the omnipresent notebook._

ADELE  
Will there be anything else?  
_(ruefully)  
_I mean, not that anything could outweigh what happened to Davey, but – I should at least make an attempt to cancel the caterer…

_HAVERS looks up from her notes._

HAVERS  
Actually, I was wondering if I might ask you about your son.

_ADELE goes suddenly rigid, evincing more panic than in the entire interrogation up to now._

ADELE  
What about Tom?

_HAVERS is quick to reassure but does not overlook the intensity of ADELE's reaction to her query._

HAVERS  
Oh, please, it's nothin' as bad as that. As you know, I just met him when I arrived.  
_(frowns, debating how to phrase it)  
_He seems a sweet lad –

ADELE  
Sweetest on earth – and far more clever than I was at that age. I love that boy more than life.

HAVERS  
Enough to quit uni.

_ADELE looks up sharply._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Sorry. DS McAllister told me a little.

_ADELE relaxes slightly; noting this, HAVERS opts to pry._

HAVERS  
He says Tom's dad was a Detective Inspector?

ADELE  
News to me. I haven't seen or spoken to his dad since – well, since that night.

HAVERS  
I'm sorry.

ADELE  
_(philosophically)  
_Don't be. It could never have been more than it was – and anyway, I got Tom out of the bargain. Not such a bad tradeoff for missing out on art school.

_HAVERS silently resigns the inquiry, abruptly becoming aware that ADELE is unlikely to admit anything further about her past._

HAVERS  
Thanks so much for your time. I'll just have a quick word with DS McAllister, but you should be free to go.

_On impulse, she reaches to shake ADELE's hand._

HAVERS  
Good luck with the show.

**INT. POLICE STATION – MID-MORNING.**

_HAVERS stands outside the interview room, deep in thought, as MCALLISTER helps ADELE into her coat._

MCALLISTER  
Where you headed?

ADELE  
Don't know, rightly. Out for a coffee, maybe.

_She shoots HAVERS a wry glance at that, recollecting her long-abandoned plans for the morning._

ADELE, CONT.  
Anyway, I've got calls to make. Florist, caterer, wine merchant…  
_(she says this last with a feeble attempt at a smile)  
_Never thought I'd get to tell someone who makes more than I do that their services are no longer required.

_HAVERS reacts to this last with sudden, unprecedented sympathy._

HAVERS  
I wouldn't call it off altogether, Miss Crawford.

MCALLISTER  
_(gently corroborating)  
_She's right, Del. Three days, tops, to nail this bastard and get your show up and running again–

ADELE  
_(shakes her head)  
_Three days, three hours – it makes no difference. There isn't a gallery in Britain that'll touch an exhibit where a murder took place.

HAVERS  
_(under her breath)  
_You might be surprised.  
_(to ADELE)  
_Anyway, why don't you stick around for a bit?  
_(exchanges glances with MCALLISTER)  
_Might be best, actually, till we get a lead on our suspect. You could be in danger –

ADELE  
_(with a self-deprecating smile)  
_It's just a little gallery, Sergeant. Tate wasn't that interested anyway – but thanks for the kind words.

MCALLISTER  
Seriously, Del – you want someone to ring the Tate?

ADELE  
Right, because that wouldn't be presumptuous.

HAVERS  
_(puzzled)  
_But I thought –

_She glances over at MCALLISTER._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Half the reason you rang the Met –

MCALLISTER  
_(finishes for her)  
_We expected the Tate.

_(to ADELE, frowning himself in confusion now)  
_The article yesterday – Davey's quote from the gallery bloke –

ADELE  
_(shakes her head)  
_Davey wanted more than anything for this show to go well – more than me even, I think – but he wasn't half as well-connected as he'd have liked to think. He claimed to be in touch with Stephen Rushwood from the Tate –

HAVERS  
Is that a legitimate contact – someone actually affiliated with the gallery?

ADELE  
_(nods)  
_I looked him up on their site – but really, that might be all Davey ever did either. Don't get me wrong; I believe he tried, but…  
_(this lament is lightly spoken, not piteous; a small joke at her own expense)  
_I can't believe he could entice a curator of one of the finest galleries in Britain to drive up to Oxford and check out the exhibition of a wannabe Pre-Raphaelite who's about two hundred years too late to join the party.

MCALLISTER  
_(rallying with indignation)  
_Aw, c'mon, Del; you don't know that for sure. Anyway, yours is the best collection any of us have seen come out of this town; even your old professor Edenton –

ADELE  
_(interrupting with a small grateful smile)  
_You've all been far too kind. Ring the Tate if you must, David, but don't look for recognition on their end. Like as not, they never had any intention of coming up, tonight or ever.

MCALLISTER  
_(sighs)  
_You have a contact number for this Rushwood?

ADELE  
_(shakes her head)  
_You could check Davey's mobile. If he wasn't inventing the whole thing, of course.  
_(with a sad smile, to MCALLISTER)  
_Thank you, David, for everything. I'll see you later.  
_(to HAVERS)  
_Sergeant Havers.

_She gives a little nod to both and leaves. Once the door has closed behind her, MCALLISTER turns to HAVERS and fixes her with a thoughtful gaze._

MCALLISTER  
She did mention Finnegan.

HAVERS  
You have enough to bring him 'round for a chat?

MCALLISTER  
_(shrugs)  
_Twenty years' worth of minor violations – destruction of property and the like. Yeah, I can get him for ya.

_There is a brief thoughtful silence._

MCALLISTER  
So, what d'you think of _her_?

HAVERS  
Adele?

_He nods._

HAVERS, CONT.  
She's definitely hiding something, but she didn't kill Gilchrist.  
_(consideringly)  
_I wonder though, sir, whether it might not be premature to rule out her son.

_He gives her a sharp look._

MCALLISTER  
Tom Crawford's the best officer on my force –

HAVERS  
With all due respect, sir, that doesn't mean he couldn't have killed Gilchrist.

MCALLISTER  
_(plainly)  
_I know. And that's why you're going up to The Tangled Hare to quietly corroborate his alibi.

HAVERS  
_(startled)  
_Sir?

MCALLISTER  
Confirm with John Crawford when the lad came in and such – what he did all night, when he brushed his teeth and when he went to bed. With any luck, he was asleep hours before Gilchrist met his end.

HAVERS  
Maybe, but – sir, you've just sent him down to the scene! He could alter evidence –

MCALLISTER  
Sergeant, Tom's probably the best detective I've ever worked with. If he really killed Gilchrist, there'd be no evidence in the first place.

HAVERS  
Sir –  
_(a little reluctantly but frustrated)  
_I'm sorry, but – isn't it a little irregular, deciding who your murderer _isn't_ – and then looking at alibis?

MCALLISTER  
_(a tad imperiously)  
_When I lose DC Crawford, Sergeant, it'll be to a cushy position at the Met.

HAVERS  
_(curiously)  
_As opposed to what, sir? A criminal investigation in which he's clearly the killer?

MCALLISTER  
Wasn't Tom, ma'am. I'd rather go to prison for bein' wrong than lose his respect by makin' him a suspect at this stage in the game.

_HAVERS is mildly taken aback by this reaction, and after a considerable pause, remarks:_

HAVERS  
Sure you're not his father, sir?

MCALLISTER  
_(shakes his head)  
_Wish I were most days. Would do anyone proud.

HAVERS  
You really care about him.

MCALLISTER  
_(bluntly)  
_Work with him for a day and see if you don't.

_He turns to go and speak with a passing uniformed CONSTABLE, leaving HAVERS to her thoughts._


	4. DC Crawford's Mum

**_Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – MID-MORNING.**

_LYNLEY, gloved and such, follows RHYS and MARTEN, two similarly gloved __Scenes of Crime Officers__ (SOCOs) across the gallery toward GILCHRIST'S BODY. _

LYNLEY  
No signs of a break-in?

RHYS  
None as yet, sir, though we've found traces of blood on one of the front doors.

LYNLEY  
Gilchrist's?

MARTEN  
Most likely. We sent it off straightaway, so we'll know soon enough.

LYNLEY  
Prints?

RHYS  
You know the phrase, "needle in a haystack," sir? This isn't the most popular gallery in Oxford, but when you start siftin' through prints, it's gonna seem like it. Easily twenty people coming and going the last two days alone, between Gilchrist, Adele, the janitor, decorators…

LYNLEY  
Do what you can.

_They pause beside GILCHRIST'S BODY._

MARTEN  
Whoever our killer was, sir, he made a cleaner job of gettin' in than he did of the murder itself.

_LYNLEY crouches down for a closer look and the SOCOS follow suit._

LYNLEY  
So, what have we got?

RHYS  
Thirty-eight-year-old man, multiple puncture wounds to the chest. This –

_He gestures with a gloved fingertip to where the handle protrudes from GILCHRIST'S chest._

RHYS, CONT.  
- was the one that killed him, I presume, but the question is: was the killer simply trying to inflict additional pain by stabbing the hell out of Gilchrist?

_He gestures at the other bloody patches on GILCHRIST'S shirt._

RHYS, CONT.  
Or could he really not tell where the heart was?

LYNLEY _cringes, in spite of himself, at the thought._

LYNLEY  
Can you identify the weapon?

_MARTEN leans in, lightly touching the handle with his gloved fingertips._

MARTEN  
A knife of some sort?

RHYS  
Not a kitchen knife. Looks more like…I don't know, a garden tool? A trowel, maybe?

_MARTEN audibly winces._

LYNLEY  
_(frowning)  
_Or a palette knife.

RHYS  
_(nonplussed)  
_Sir?

LYNLEY  
A palette knife – used for mixing paint colors.  
_(at their resultant blank looks)  
_This _is_ an art gallery, gentlemen.  
_(pauses in thought)  
_The murder was reported by the artist herself, I understand?

_He and the SOCOS shift back to their feet._

RHYS  
Yes, Del Crawford. She lives in the flat upstairs; she found the body at half-eight when she was on her way out. Constable – Severn, I think it was – drove out here and brought her down to the station.

LYNLEY  
_(practically)  
_Right. Am I to assume, then, that she is a primary suspect?

_The entire room abruptly stills and many pairs of eyes rivet sharply to LYNLEY._

LYNLEY  
_(carefully, looking about himself)  
_Or…perhaps not?

_The activity slowly resumes as LYNLEY turns to the SOCOS for an explanation._

MARTEN  
Del's exhibition was to open tonight. She'd been plannin' it for months, sir – years, maybe. It was going to be her big break.

RHYS  
_(supplying his two pence)  
_The Tate were interested, last I heard. Assuming she was even capable of this sort of thing, why would she do it?

LYNLEY  
Publicity stunt? Who knows? How did she know Davey Gilchrist?

RHYS  
He owned the gallery and her flat above – her landlord.

MARTEN  
_(under his breath)  
_And a right lech.

LYNLEY  
_(sharply)  
_I beg your pardon?

MARTEN  
_(mortified)  
_No offense, sir; I only meant – Gilchrist was forever after Del. She wasn't interested, but he never let up –

LYNLEY  
So she might've killed him in –

_He breaks off abruptly at the vehemently defensive looks that cross their faces._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(with forced calmness)  
_Right, what aren't you telling me? You're both convinced that she's not the killer, despite potential evidence to the contrary, and I need to know _why_.

_RHYS studies his shoes for a moment before answering:_

RHYS  
_(reluctantly)  
_Well, she's…She's DC Crawford's mum, sir.

LYNLEY  
DC Crawford?

MARTEN  
_(elaborates)  
_Detective Constable Tom Crawford. He's one of the best on our force, sir; been with us seven years now.

RHYS  
He and his mum are best friends; she's forever around the station. Most of us have known her ever since we joined the force.

LYNLEY  
I see.  
_(delicately)  
_But with all respect due to this police force and to Miss Crawford, that doesn't mean she couldn't have –

RHYS  
_(evenly)  
_Yes it does. I have the utmost respect for you, Inspector, but you'd best find another line of inquiry now before you embarrass yourself.

_He walks away, followed by MARTEN._

MARTEN  
_(mutters)  
_…from the Met. They do things differently there, apparently.

RHYS  
And Tom wants to leave us for 'em.

MARTEN _scoffs_ as t_hey continue walking away. LYNLEY watches them for a moment, incredulous, then he turns back to see that the entire room is staring reproachfully at him over their investigative duties._

LYNLEY  
Right.

_He gets out his mobile and enters a number._

**CUT to EXT. POLICE STATION – MID-MORNING.**

_SERGEANT MCALLISTER is getting into his car when his mobile rings. He answers:_

MCALLISTER  
This is McAllister.  
_(pauses briefly)  
_Sir. Your sergeant's given us our first real suspect. Man called Finnegan – local artist. Bad blood with Gilchrist as well as Adele. On my way to bring him in now, matter of fact. What's going on?

_There is a lengthy pause as he takes in LYNLEY'S inaudible rant, then he chuckles._

MCALLISTER, CONT.  
Beg pardon, sir. Of course I'll have a word. They're a little protective of Tom's mum, is all. Half my boys had their first crush on her.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA. SIDE CORRIDOR – MID-MORNING.**

_LYNLEY, looking frankly disgusted with the situation, ducks into a side corridor off the gallery, so as not to be heard by the SOCOS. He does not notice the two vibrant portraits of ADELE on the wall opposite the toilets._

LYNLEY  
Even so, Sergeant, this blatant refusal to acknowledge a chain of evidence at this early stage –

**CUT to INT. MCALLISTER'S CAR – MID-MORNING.**

MCALLISTER  
_Have_ you a chain of evidence, sir?  
_(pauses)  
_Listen, Sergeant Havers just finished with Adele and we've released her. DC Crawford should be meeting you any moment –

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA. SIDE CORRIDOR – MID-MORNING.**

LYNLEY  
_(appalled)  
_What, _here_? With his mother so closely connected – Sergeant, are you entirely certain that's wise?

**CUT to INT. MCALLISTER'S CAR – MID-MORNING.**

MCALLISTER  
He's the best on my force, sir – and before you ask, your sergeant's off checking his alibi. Give him – and his mum – half a chance. You might be surprised.

**INT. THE TANGLED HARE – LATE MORNING.**

_A still somewhat disgruntled HAVERS comes into the well-worn taproom, occupied by a few early DINERS, and inquires silently of a WAITRESS, who gestures over to the bar where JOHN CRAWFORD is filling a basket with packets of crisps. HAVERS crosses to the bar and addresses him:_

HAVERS  
Excuse me, I'm looking for John Crawford.

CRAWFORD  
_(rough but genial)  
_You've found him. How c'n I help, miss?

_HAVERS produces her badge._

HAVERS  
Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers with the Metropolitan Police. Might I have a private word, sir?

_CRAWFORD'S response is one of calm surprise._

CRAWFORD  
Din't think last night's crowd was _that_ lively.

_He sighs, abandoning the crisps._

CRAWFORD, CONT.  
You'd better come up, then.

_He leads HAVERS behind the bar to a corridor leading to a stair._

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. LIVING ROOM – LATE MORNING.**

_CRAWFORD waves HAVERS to a seat on the balding sofa. HAVERS sits but continues to look about her while producing the omnipresent notebook._

HAVERS  
Actually, I've come to ask you about your grandson, DC Thomas Crawford.

CRAWFORD  
_(frowns)  
_One o' yours, ain't he?

HAVERS  
Nearly. I was wondering, sir, if you might tell me where he was last night?

_His frown deepens, though his response is civil enough._

CRAWFORD  
Tom? Yeah, 'course I can. Home around six, he was, helped me out a bit downstairs in the pub, then came up and messed with his paints for a bit till his mum rang on the mobile – 'round ten, I think it was. He went down to meet her at some furrin rest'rant, stayed a bit at her flat, I think, and was back around one.

_HAVERS looks up from her notes with mild skepticism._

HAVERS  
At which point you were still awake?

CRAWFORD  
_(nods)  
_Watchin' telly.  
_(at her look)  
_Pub don' open till eleven, Sergeant. I can keep whatever hours I like, providin' I'm up and pullin' pints by then. Tom, though, he fell into bed about half-one and din't move all night.

_HAVERS studies his expression for any sign of subterfuge._

HAVERS  
You sure about that?

CRAWFORD  
Yeah – looked in on him about three, half-two maybe. Hadn't moved a hair.

HAVERS  
_(surprised)  
_You were still up then?

_He unconsciously rubs at his elbow. The action is not lost on HAVERS._

CRAWFORD  
Bit o' a bad night – restless.

_She regards him for a long moment._

HAVERS  
_(evenly)  
_And can I ask where you were, sir?

CRAWFORD  
Here, o' course.  
_(frowns slightly)  
_Thought I made that clear. Closed the pub, cleaned up, came up here and watched telly till Tom got home.

HAVERS  
_(glancing down at her notes)  
_At…half-one?

CRAWFORD  
Yeah, that's right. Saw him into bed, then watched telly till I went to bed 'round half-two, maybe three.

HAVERS  
Can anyone verify your whereabouts at those times, sir?

CRAWFORD  
_(growing frustrated)  
_My servers till midnight, then Tom, o' course. Can I ask what this is about, Sergeant?

_HAVERS hesitates a moment._

CRAWFORD, CONT.  
_(by way of explanation)  
_My grandson's a Detective Constable, ma'am. I know what it means when you lot come 'round askin' questions.

HAVERS  
Then you know there's been a murder.

CRAWFORD  
_(frowning)  
_Murder? How's it concern Tom?

HAVERS  
We're hoping it doesn't. Thank you, Mr. Crawford.

_She gets up to leave but hesitates, another question on her mind._

HAVERS  
Mr. Crawford, I understand that Tom's dad was a Detective Inspector.

CRAWFORD  
_(sighs)  
_Shoulda known that story'd eventu'lly get round and bite my arse.

HAVERS  
I beg your pardon?

CRAWFORD  
Tom wanted a dad to look up to. I mean, he already looked up to the bastard, an' all he knew for sure is that the he'd known Del the summer before she started uni, got her pregnant and ran off again.

_HAVERS eyes him carefully, not ready to abandon her initial suspicions but taken aback by this response._

HAVERS  
Are you saying his dad wasn't an inspector?

CRAWFORD  
_(darkly)  
_Y'know what Tom's dad was, Sergeant? A twenny-one year-old rich prat who couldn't last a night without a shag. Del was seventeen and the prettiest girl around, and I made the mistake of lettin' her go out with him once. Don't think I don't regret that every day of my life.

HAVERS  
_(evenly)  
_With all due respect, sir, without that boy Del would never have had Tom.

CRAWFORD  
_(conceding nothing)  
_Well, maybe and maybe not. He's a good lad, Sergeant, an' I'm not sayin' I wished he'd never been born. Just wished to God it might've happened any other way.

_She eyes him for a long moment._

HAVERS  
_(betraying nothing)  
_I may need to speak with you again. Thank you, Mr. Crawford.

_She exits the flat._

**EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – LATE MORNING.**

_THOMAS CRAWFORD ducks under the police cordon surrounding the perimeter of the gallery and walks up to the front door, which is propped open and being dusted for prints. He briefly shows his badge to a __constable__ in uniform and goes inside –_

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – LATE MORNING.**

– _where he is spotted at once by RHYS._

RHYS  
Constable Crawford, sir.

_RHYS hurries over to him and speaks inaudibly for a moment, now and again shooting glances over his shoulder at LYNLEY, who is standing over GILCHRIST'S BODY with MARTEN, looking on as CROFT and TURNER, two additional SOCO PERSONNEL begin preparing to bag GILCHRIST'S BODY for transport._

THOMAS  
_(quietly, to RHYS with a small smile)  
_You really didn't expect he'd say anything else, did you? He's a Detective Inspector, not to mention one of the best at the Met. Not suspecting someone this close to the situation would be sheer idiocy – not to mention, shoddy police work.

RHYS  
But sir – your mum –

THOMAS  
You and I both know she didn't do it, Rhys. The inspector's only doing what they brought him here for.  
_(softer still, coolly)  
_And with all due respect, that man is exactly what I'd like to be someday, so I'd appreciate a little more respect in regard to his police work, thanks.

_THOMAS moves away from RHYS and clears his throat as he approaches LYNLEY._

THOMAS  
Excuse me: my lord?

_LYNLEY looks up and about for a minute, nonplussed._

THOMAS  
Lord Lynley –

_He amends this quickly, looking suddenly ten years old and perfectly uncertain, albeit earnest._

THOMAS  
Lord Asherton – ?

_LYNLEY smiles and offers a now-ungloved hand._

LYNLEY  
"DI Lynley" will more than suffice. You must be DC Crawford.

_THOMAS hesitates the briefest moment – looking almost awestruck – before taking and shaking LYNLEY'S hand._

THOMAS  
Yes, sir.  
_(continues in a bit of a breathless rush)  
_DS McAllister from Thames Valley sent me down to meet you –  
_(draws a quick breath before continuing)  
_- and let me say, my lor – sir – it is an honor to work with you on this case.

_LYNLEY smiles genuinely, taking the schoolboy adoration in stride._

LYNLEY  
It's always a pleasure, coming back to Oxford. What can you tell me about Davey Gilchrist, Constable?

_He steps aside so THOMAS can see GILCHRIST'S BODY properly, and the resultant horror is unfeignable._

THOMAS  
Oh my God. Mum said, but…

_He crouches down beside GILCHRIST'S BODY, pulling on gloves with a thoughtless, practiced ease as he does so._

THOMAS  
_(almost inaudibly, to GILCHRIST)  
_I know I didn't like you much, but no one deserves _this_.

_He lightly touches the handle of the embedded murder weapon and then glances up at LYNLEY._

THOMAS  
Palette knife, sir?

_LYNLEY crouches beside him_

LYNLEY  
I guessed as much, though we won't know for certain till the pathologist finishes with him. Are you an artist as well, Constable?

THOMAS  
_(apologetically)  
_I try. Nothing like this.

_He gestures at the displayed paintings with a gloved hand._

THOMAS, CONT.  
This is Mum's life.

_He sits silent and pensive for a moment, gazing down at GILCHRIST'S BODY._

THOMAS, CONT.  
_(to himself)  
_We were meant to be leaving for London soon – just after New Year at the latest. Davey was in touch with a bloke at the Tate, and we had every hope that he'd make an appearance at the exhibition tonight, with a booking in the offing for good measure.

_He looks up at LYNLEY._

THOMAS, CONT.  
I'm not sure that Davey was the target of this, sir.

LYNLEY  
I hope you're not suggesting that someone stabbed him six times with a palette knife by accident.

THOMAS  
No, of course not. He was the intended victim, but – I think the murder itself was an attack on my mum. Think about it, sir: a murder in the middle of her gallery the morning her exhibition's meant to open…

LYNLEY  
_(contemplating this)  
_It's sensational, surely –

THOMAS  
But she didn't want sensational. She didn't _need_ sensational. Sir, I know she's my mum but – anyone in Oxford will tell you. The exhibition was all but a guaranteed success. All the right people were already interested; she had only to show up and open the doors. And now her landlord appears, stabbed to death in the middle of the gallery, the morning before its grand opening.

LYNLEY  
_(thoughtfully)  
_You think someone could be trying to frame her?

THOMAS  
It would be one obvious conclusion, sir.

LYNLEY  
_(thinking aloud)  
_Too obvious, maybe…?

_THOMAS flashes him a dark look, demonstrating clearly that his protectiveness of ADELE supersedes his adoration of LYNLEY._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(mildly apologetic)  
_Let me think a moment, Constable.

_He shifts back to his feet, and THOMAS follows suit._

LYNLEY  
Where was your mum last night?

THOMAS  
Upstairs in her flat. I saw her in, all but tucked her in bed before I left.

LYNLEY  
At what time?

THOMAS  
About one. Quarter-past at the latest.

_LYNLEY looks down at the additional SOCO PERSONNEL, who are now bagging GILCHRIST'S BODY._

LYNLEY  
How long would you estimate Gilchrist has been dead?

CROFT  
This isn't my specialty, sir, but I'd guess…I don' know, eight hours? Maybe less. Just guessin' at this point, sir.

_LYNLEY looks down at his watch, which shows it to be a quarter past eleven, and mentally counts backward._

LYNLEY  
_(more to himself than the others)  
_What the hell would he be doing here at three in the morning?

CROFT  
I wouldn't like to guess, sir.

LYNLEY  
_(to THOMAS)  
_Did you see anything out of the ordinary when you left your mum?

THOMAS  
_(evenly)  
_If I had, sir, I'd never have gone.

LYNLEY  
_(conceding this with the smallest of smile)  
_Of course.


	5. John Crawford's Daughter

**_Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**EXT. OXFORD. STREET – LATE MORNING.**

_ADELE is walking down a quiet street, huddled into her coat and not really paying attention to where she's going till she stops with a start in front of The Tangled Hare, its façade that of a quintessential Olde English pub. She draws an uneven breath and –_

**CUT to INT. THE TANGLED HARE. TAPROOM – EVENING.  
****JANUARY 1984 (FLASHBACK)**

_YOUNG ADELE, 17, is seated behind the bar in the busy pub, her head bent over a textbook. Her black hair is very long and braided loosely and she's dressed in jeans and a embroidered crinkle cotton top that is lovely, albeit a few years out of date. Despite the unfashionable get-up and dowdy coif, she is still lovely – inconspicuous, perhaps, but utterly beautiful to anyone who might bother to look. Her father, JOHN CRAWFORD, in his late 30s and far less grizzled than his later incarnation, is pulling pints down the bar. He glances up._

CRAWFORD  
Del, run these over to Number 16, will ya?

YOUNG ADELE  
Yeah.

_She closes the book, brushes her palms on her jeans and comes around the front of the bar to take the tray of pints from her father._

CRAWFORD  
Party o' uni blokes.  
_(winks)  
_Might be one or two could get your nose outta those books.  
_(grins)_

_YOUNG ADELE, clearly unimpressed, rolls her eyes and carries the tray over to a table where four STUDENTS are seated, including YOUNG FINNEGAN and YOUNG LYNLEY, both early 20s. (The other two are presumably GERRY MIDDLETON and PETER CAVANAUGH, similar in age and apparel to YOUNG LYNLEY and YOUNG FINNEGAN.) YOUNG LYNLEY bears a marked resemblance to THOMAS CRAWFORD, though his hair is longer – about chin-length – and his eyes are dark, not green. He is effortlessly posh and thoroughly gorgeous__, and YOUNG ADELE's eyes light on him for a fleeting moment before she turns determinedly back to her tray._

YOUNG ADELE  
Right, here you are, sirs.

_She takes one pint glass from her tray, inadvertently throwing it off balance and – in an excruciatingly embarrassing sequence – spilling the other three drinks _in their entirety_ over YOUNG LYNLEY, who is seated directly to her left. A general commotion results._

YOUNG ADELE  
_(horrified)  
_Oh God oh God; I'm so sorry –

YOUNG FINNEGAN  
That'll cost you your job, little miss – !

_YOUNG LYNLEY, soaked to the skin, takes the whole thing in stride and calmly begins to clean himself up with napkins at the table. One almost expects him to call for soda water._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Hardly, or hadn't you noticed her dad runs the place?

_His voice is no less posh and gorgeous than the rest of him. He looks up at YOUNG ADELE, who is holding the one intact pint glass in a death grip and looking about her in a panic._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
It's all right; I'm not hurt or anything –

_CRAWFORD comes up quickly behind YOUNG ADELE and edges her aside._

CRAWFORD  
My lord, forgive us. Del's not often waitin' tables –

YOUNG LYNLEY  
No harm done, I assure you.

CRAWFORD  
Del, run up and find Lord Asherton some dry clothes.

_CRAWFORD has perfected the art of servility to the noble-born, stopping just a hair short of being obsequious. Too terrified to think twice, YOUNG ADELE sets the remaining glass – a pint of Guinness – in front of YOUNG FINNEGAN and hurries out of the pub in the direction of the upstairs flat. As she leaves she hears –_

YOUNG LYNLEY, O.S.  
Ah! Kip, you should be delighted – she managed to save _your_ drink.

CRAWFORD, O.S.  
I'll have ya another round in a trice, milords. Is there anything else I – ?

_YOUNG ADELE continues up the stairs in a stumbling rush, her cheeks flaming._

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. CRAWFORD'S BEDROOM – EVENING.**

_YOUNG ADELE is rummaging frantically through the clothing in her father's dresser, most of which articles are well-worn and in varying shades of brown. (And perhaps olive, for some variety.) With a little whimper of frustration she throws open the closet to peruse his button-down shirts._

YOUNG LYNLEY, O.S.  
Anything, will do, really.

_YOUNG ADELE drops the jumper she was holding and turns quickly, startled, to see YOUNG LYNLEY standing in the bedroom doorway._

YOUNG LYNLEY, CONT.  
Sorry – didn't mean to give you a start. I thought your dad would be offering to dress me next.

_She chuckles awkwardly and retrieves the jumper that she dropped, handing it to him as he approaches._

YOUNG ADELE  
I…erm…will you be needing trousers and all, or…?

_She trails off, looking over his drenched clothing, and turns decisively back to the closet._

YOUNG ADELE, CONT.  
Right, I'll just –

_She breaks off abruptly as his hand brushes hers on the closet door – not an overture, simply a gesture to defer the project to him, but the touch at once thrills and terrifies her._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
I'm sure I can find things myself, if you're wanting to get back and help your dad clean up.

YOUNG ADELE  
_(shakes her head, momentarily dumbstruck)  
_Dad'd kill me if I came back without you. I'll…erm…just be out here.

_She goes back out into the corridor and promptly closes the door between them then leans back against it, deeply flushed._

**CUT to** **INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. CRAWFORD'S BEDROOM – EVENING.**

_YOUNG LYNLEY takes off his shirt (in that dragging-up-over-one's-back motion that young men execute so well) and addresses the door over his shoulder._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
I'm Thomas Lynley, by the way.

YOUNG ADELE, O.S.  
_(muffled by the door)  
_Very pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.

**CUT to** **INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. CORRIDOR – EVENING.**

_Still hiding behind the door, YOUNG ADELE winces at her remark._

YOUNG ADELE  
Erm…my lord.

**CUT to** **INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. CRAWFORD'S BEDROOM – EVENING.**

_Now wearing JOHN CRAWFORD's best jumper, YOUNG LYNLEY looks up from pulling on new trousers and smiles slightly at the door between them._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Just "Thomas" will suffice – or "Tommy," if you want.

**CUT to** **INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. CORRIDOR – EVENING.**

YOUNG ADELE  
_(silently echoes, with amused disbelief)  
_"Tommy"?  
(_but quickly recalls the gravity of the situation)  
_Yes, sir, thank you, sir…erm…Thomas?

_She winces, yet again._

**CUT to** **INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. CRAWFORD'S BEDROOM – EVENING.**

_YOUNG LYNLEY glances consideringly up at the door._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Your dad called you "Del".

**CUT to** **INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. CORRIDOR – EVENING.**

_YOUNG ADELE looks over her shoulder to address the door._

YOUNG ADELE  
Yeah, it's short for "Adele." Adele Crawford.

_One begins to fear that she will never again produce any expression besides a wince._

YOUNG ADELE, CONT.  
But I imagine you knew that already?

_The door abruptly opens behind her under YOUNG LYNLEY's hand and she narrowly misses toppling backward onto him. YOUNG LYNLEY, disturbingly attractive even in her dad's clothes, grins as he steadies her with a hand._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
A pleasure, Miss Crawford.

**INT. THE TANGLED HARE. TAPROOM – EVENING. **

_YOUNG ADELE is back behind the bar, hard at work on revision. CRAWFORD pats her lightly on the back – clearly, he wasn't too angry about the pint-spilling disaster – and goes to assist YOUNG LYNLEY and the other two STUDENTS in moving an inebriated YOUNG FINNEGAN, who is determinedly resisting their efforts. YOUNG ADELE glances up and briefly catches eyes with YOUNG LYNLEY. They share a smile, then she hurriedly turns back to her textbook – but the action is not quick enough to go unremarked. EMILY, a waitress, 19, is walking past with a stack of pint glasses and pauses beside YOUNG ADELE to comment:_

EMILY  
_(cheekily)  
_So you've set your cap at an earl then?

YOUNG ADELE  
_(nonplussed)  
_An earl?

EMILY  
I just had it off Jen: your Thomas Lynley's the eighth earl of Asherton. His dad died a few years ago, apparently, and he's inherited a manor house in Cornwall and the whole bit.

YOUNG ADELE  
_(a little shortly)  
_Brilliant. Why don't _you_ marry him?

EMILY  
_(mock surprise)  
_Don't you want to be a countess, Del?

YOUNG ADELE  
I know better than to waste my time pining after blokes like him.

_She slides out of her chair, takes half of EMILY's glasses and walks toward the kitchen door._

EMILY  
What, not even the gorgeous ones?

YOUNG ADELE  
_Especially_ not the gorgeous ones.

EMILY  
You're hopeless. Here, give me those.

_She takes back the glasses with a grin._

EMILY  
You've already broken three of our best.

_YOUNG ADELE pulls a face at her, then EMILY disappears into the kitchen. YOUNG ADELE begins to follow but stops just inside the door to glace back at YOUNG LYNLEY, now making his way out the front door. She does not look long, but it's clear in that moment that she is already hopelessly smitten with him._

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. ADELE'S BEDROOM – EVENING.  
****A FEW DAYS LATER**

_YOUNG ADELE silently works on a painting: a Pre-Raphaelite man with features distinctly like YOUNG LYNLEY's._

**INT. THE TANGLED HARE. TAPROOM – EARLY EVENING.  
****SUMMER, 1984**

_YOUNG ADELE runs into the crowded pub, shouting and waving a letter. _

YOUNG ADELE  
Dad!

_CRAWFORD is pulling pints for JESSICA and SOPHIE, a pair of fashionably dressed students in their early 20s, but ceases at once and comes to meet YOUNG ADELE._

YOUNG ADELE  
Dad, I did it! I'm in! They've just got my A-levels –

_She leaps into a hug with her too-proud father._

CRAWFORD  
_(to the pub)  
_Y' hear that, all? My girl's gone and got into The Ruskin!

_There is a smattering of applause, whoops, and cheers over the din._

CRAWFORD  
_(to YOUNG ADELE)  
_It'll be the Tate next! Oh, love, I'm that proud o' ya!

_JESSICA and SOPHIE come forward to offer congratulations. SOPHIE gives YOUNG ADELE a quick impulsive hug._

SOPHIE  
That's brilliant, Del!

JESSICA  
Ruskin's tougher than most, gettin' in. Good on ya, love!

SOPHIE  
This definitely calls for celebration.  
_(over her shoulder)  
_Tommy!

_YOUNG LYNLEY is already approaching them. The past months have only been kind, or perhaps the AUDIENCE now sees him with YOUNG ADELE's eyes. Regardless of the cause, he is breathtaking._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Congratulations, Adele. I didn't know you were an artist.

SOPHIE  
She was only sketchin' at the bar every night we've been here, the past six months.

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(self-deprecating smile)  
_Yes, well –

YOUNG ADELE  
_(breathlessly)  
_It's all right.

_It's very clear that she's giddy at being this near to him._

JESSICA  
Never mind that. We gonna celebrate? Drinks here, then on to The Zodiac –?

_YOUNG ADELE looks at her father, who smiles and gives her a quick kiss on the forehead._

CRAWFORD  
Go on, love. You've earned it.

SOPHIE  
Brilliant! Let's get you looking fabulous!

_She wraps an arm around YOUNG ADELE and steers her toward the entrance to the flat. En route they pass a table at which YOUNG FINNEGAN is sitting alone, and he glances up at YOUNG ADELE as she walks by, oblivious to his presence._

**(END FLASHBACK)**

**CUT to EXT. THE TANGLED HARE – LATE MORNING.  
****PRESENT DAY.**

_ADELE is staring mindlessly at the façade of her father's pub when the man himself walks out with a bag of rubbish._

CRAWFORD  
_(gruffly)  
_What you doin' here?

ADELE  
_(coldly)  
_What are _you_ doing, speaking to me like you've the right?

_She turns sharply back in the direction from which she had come._

CRAWFORD  
Your show openin' tonight?

_She looks back at him._

ADELE  
Matter of fact, no.  
_(quietly resolved)  
_But it will open soon enough, and it'll be brilliant, and Tom and I'll be off to London before you can mutter another curse of protest.

_She sets off down the street, a little angrily._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EARLY AFTERNOON.**

_HAVERS walks into the gallery. SOCOS are still hard at work, excavating for evidence, and THOMAS CRAWFORD is consulting with RHYS over the site where GILCHRIST'S BODY had lain. LYNLEY is standing a short ways off, looking at a painting while he finishes a call on his mobile, and HAVERS crosses to him. He holds up a hand for her to keep silent a moment longer._

LYNLEY  
_(to the phone)  
_Yes, thank you very much.

_He terminates the call and pockets his mobile._

HAVERS  
Any breakthroughs, sir?

LYNLEY  
_(dryly)  
_You're gonna love this: Gilchrist was stabbed six times in the chest with a palette knife.

HAVERS  
Sorry?

LYNLEY  
_(clarifies)  
_A short blade used to mix paint colors – and, I hasten to add, customarily blunt.

_HAVERS winces; LYNLEY nods his accord with this sentiment._

LYNLEY  
Lucky the killer finally punctured the heart, or Gilchrist might have bled to death for hours.

HAVERS  
_(thoughtfully)  
_A palette knife, so…what, you're thinking it was Adele?

LYNLEY  
Oh, don't even start with me.

_She looks up, startled, at the vehemence of this remark._

LYNLEY  
_(in a rapid, frustrated whisper)  
_First, I get a roomful of half-wit forensic blokes who glare me down because I so much as mention her name in conjunction with the murder. Then I ring McAllister, thinking to bring the issue before the proper authority, and he tells me not to worry; they're all just protective, and anyway, it couldn't be her. Then DC Crawford – the protective son himself – shows up and tells the SOCO boys that he'd be disappointed if I hadn't suspected her!

HAVERS  
It wasn't her, sir.

LYNLEY  
_(exasperated)  
_Well, thank you for that original insight.

_He turns blusteringly away._

HAVERS  
Hey, unlike all those people you just mentioned, I just got out of an interview with the woman.

LYNLEY  
Brilliant. Now you're in love with her too!

_HAVERS gives him a sidewise considering glance, in light of her previous conclusions, but betrays none of this in her reply._

HAVERS  
Seriously, sir. Why kill Gilchrist in the gallery the day before her exhibition opens?

LYNLEY  
Has no one considered it might be a publicity stunt? Crime of passion? Who knows? Once we get the forensic –

HAVERS  
Fortunately, we've got another suspect.

_She hands him a file folder._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Kip Finnegan, also an artist, with a criminal record and a grudge against Gilchrist and Adele. McAllister's bringin' him in –

LYNLEY  
_(with mild surprise)  
__Kip_ Finnegan?

HAVERS  
D'you know him, sir?

_LYNLEY nods, paging through the file in disbelief._

LYNLEY  
I did, ages ago – at university. He was at The Ruskin, of course, for art, but –

_HAVERS casts a quick furtive glance between THOMAS, who is talking to SOCOs behind them, and LYNLEY._

HAVERS  
Sir, when you were at school, did you ever come 'round a pub called The Tangled Hare, run by a John Crawford?

LYNLEY  
The Tangled…

_He looks at her with sudden recognition._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
My God, yes! Only place to get a breath and a decent meal some nights. Crawford toadied a bit 'round his posh customers, but the pub itself was first-rate. I –

_He_ _breaks off mid-sentence, frowning at a recollection._

HAVERS  
_(awkwardly, as though pushing her luck)  
_It's just – I was wondering, sir, if you recall ever meeting Crawford's daughter, Adele.

_LYNLEY's expression alters, but infinitesimally and with an emotion impossible to decipher._

LYNLEY  
_(his voice is even and gives nothing away)  
_Yes, I knew her – a little. She started at university the year after I finished. She wouldn't remember, but –  
_(breaks off again, abruptly connecting two previously disparate threads)  
_Your witness – the artist – she's called Adele Crawford?

HAVERS  
_(watching his eyes)  
_Yeah, um – she's Crawford's daughter.

_A million and a half emotions flit – again, infinitesimally – across LYNLEY's face._

LYNLEY  
The woman you interviewed this morning.

HAVERS  
_(carefully)  
_Yeah.

LYNLEY  
Well –

_His composure slips a few degrees as a thought strikes him. The expression in his eyes is at once troubled and curious._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Did she mention me? I mean, is that why you asked –?

HAVERS  
No, um…McAllister did, actually. Said you were a regular in her dad's pub, is all.

_THOMAS takes this opportune moment to come up beside them._

THOMAS  
_(pleasantly surprised)  
_Were you really, sir?

_LYNLEY looks over at the younger man as a reprieve from his thoughts and smiles._

LYNLEY  
Years and years ago.

THOMAS  
_(humorously)  
_Please don't add "before you were born," because remarks like that don't flatter either of us, sir.

LYNLEY  
_(genuinely grins, then realizes –)  
_Wait – you're Adele's son.

THOMAS  
_(grinning in reply)  
_I think we've rather definitely established that, sir.

LYNLEY  
Well, then –  
_(frowning slightly)  
_I'm afraid it would have to be before you were born, Constable, because your mother didn't have any children when I knew her.

_THOMAS's expression lights with curiosity._

THOMAS  
What, before she started uni – when she was working at Granddad's?

_LYNLEY nods, in lieu of the right words._

THOMAS, CONT.  
You probably met my dad, then.

_HAVERS promptly turns away to find something fascinating to look at and so does not see the brief look of pain, quickly suppressed, in LYNLEY's expression._

THOMAS, CONT.  
Granddad said he used to come round the pub.

LYNLEY  
Really.  
_(his voice is lifeless; still he asks out of curiosity, in spite of himself)  
_Who was he – your dad?

THOMAS  
_(slightly embarrassed)  
_I don't know. Mum's never said, nor has Granddad.

LYNLEY  
Well, there's a pity. You'd be a credit to anyone.

_There is a lengthy silence._

HAVERS  
Well, I'd better go check on the pathology report… see if they've got any prints off that palette knife…

_This jars the two men out of their pensive silence, and they both start speaking at once – sounding eerily similar as they do._

THOMAS  
Yes, I should really –

LYNLEY  
Yes, I wanted to go over –

_They both fall silent, smiling, and LYNLEY gestures for THOMAS to continue._

THOMAS  
I should really head back to the station. McAllister phoned a moment ago – he's got Finnegan. Not that he's a proper suspect, as yet anyway, but we should get his interview out of the way as soon as possible.

LYNLEY  
I agree.  
_(to HAVERS)  
_Havers, would you join him? I want to go over Gilchrist's flat before the next-of-kin arrive.

_He hands her FINNEGAN's file, which she takes, reluctantly._

THOMAS  
_(quickly, anticipating her protest before it's uttered)  
_We can hit up pathology on our way, Sergeant. It's not like Kip's never cooled his heels in an interview room before – and God knows, I'd like a closer look at that murder weapon.

LYNLEY  
Fair enough. Would you give us a moment, Constable?

THOMAS  
Of course, Inspector. Sergeant.

_He gives each of them a little nod of acknowledgement, then LYNLEY and HAVERS walk toward the gallery's rear exit._

**EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EARLY AFTERNOON.**

_ADELE walks up to the cordon where NEWBOLD (the uniformed constable who spoke with MCALLISTER earlier) stands guard. He gives her a courteous nod._

NEWBOLD  
Miss Crawford.

ADELE  
_(responding in kind)  
_Hello, Jamie. Any chance I can talk to Tom?  
_(slightly pitiful)  
_I was hoping they might let him out for lunch or something.

NEWBOLD  
_(apologetically)  
_Don' know, tell the truth, ma'am. We've got hoity-toities in from the Met, and the DI looks like he'd flog ya for looking in the wrong direction.

ADELE  
The Sergeant was all right.

NEWBOLD  
Yeah, but I'd hate to cross her either.  
_(considers a moment)  
_Look, I'll just see if I can get someone to find Tom for you –

ADELE  
It's really not that important. Thanks anyway.

_She turns to walk back the way she came when she hears VOICES approaching behind her on the sidewalk._

LYNLEY, O.S.  
…I like him as well, but with his mother involved, I think it best if someone kept an eye on him.

_ADELE looks back to see LYNLEY and HAVERS coming toward her and goes rigid._

HAVERS  
Wouldn't you rather do that, sir – speak with Finnegan, I mean, since you have a prior acquaintance?

LYNLEY  
No, I want to check out Gilchrist – his flat and accounts, see if there are any new leads. The door wasn't forced, so it's likely that the killer was either in the building to begin with –

HAVERS  
Meaning Adele.

LYNLEY  
- or had a key. A prior artist or tenant?

HAVERS  
Meaning Finnegan?  
_(considers a moment)  
_Yes, sir. I'll call you once we have his story.

LYNLEY  
Do that.

_HAVERS turns and goes back into the gallery; LYNLEY continues down the sidewalk toward ADELE, who is still a doe in headlights. Dumbstruck, she watches him approach, looking about but not at her, for about ten agonized seconds, and manages to regain slight power of speech just as he's about to pass her by._

ADELE  
_(in a very small voice)  
_Excuse me, sir – I-I was wondering –?

_He turns pleasantly to answer, like the gentleman he is._

LYNLEY  
Yes?

_ADELE promptly loses all cognizant thought._

ADELE  
I was wondering…erm…  
_(she blurts the first thing to come to mind)  
_How soon I might get back into my flat?

_LYNLEY's resultant expression is blank yet puzzled._

ADELE, CONT.  
I live just above the gallery; I'm Adele Crawford.  
_(adds in a rush, by way of explanation)  
_DC Crawford's my son; I'd actually come to see –

LYNLEY  
_(abruptly recognizing her)  
_My God, you've changed!

ADELE  
I beg your pardon?

LYNLEY  
_(belatedly recalling his manners)  
_Forgive me – Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley. I used to come round your dad's pub –

_A small, irrepressible smile, accompanied by the thinnest thread of bravery, breaks through her paralysis._

ADELE  
I know who you are, Thomas.

LYNLEY  
_(slightly flustered, he smiles in return)  
_Yes, of course. It's just…  
_(blurts the words)  
_You're even lovelier than I remember.

ADELE  
_(trembling at the compliment)  
_You're too kind.  
_(awkwardly, at a loss as to how to proceed in the conversation)  
_Anyway, about the flat –

LYNLEY  
_(apologetically)  
_It's part of the crime scene, at least for the moment. Is there anyone you might stay with for a day or two?

ADELE  
_(shakes her head)  
_Tom lives with my dad, so that's not really an option, and Katie's place is out of the question. I'll get a B&B, I suppose.  
_(smiles brightly)  
_Thank you anyway –

_She turns to go, flushed and cringing and silently cursing herself over the whole ridiculous exchange, but before she has gone more than a few steps LYNLEY calls after her:_

LYNLEY  
_(impulsively)  
_Miss Crawford – Adele – wait.

_She turns, perhaps incapable of doing otherwise._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
It's…uncanny, the two of us meeting like this. The least I can do is take you to dinner –

_Her eyes widen hugely._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
– if that is convenient for you.

ADELE  
_(a little too eagerly)  
_Of course!

_Mortified by her enthusiasm, she recollects herself to reply more sedately:_

ADELE, CONT.  
I mean, yes, that would be convenient.

LYNLEY  
Tonight then – shall we say half-seven? Give me your mobile number; I'll ring around seven and you can give me the address of your B I'll come round and pick you up.

_ADELE hurriedly scribbles on a bit of paper, hands shaking a fair bit, and hands it to LYNLEY._

LYNLEY  
Brilliant – I'll see you then.

ADELE  
I look forward to it.

_LYNLEY goes to get into his Bristol and ADELE ducks back to lean against the building nearest in a fit of trembling._


	6. Art History

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. PATHOLOGY LAB – EARLY AFTERNOON.**

_GILCHRIST'S BODY is laid out on the table, covered by a sheet from the neck down and presided over by a gowned and gloved PATHOLOGIST, who addresses HAVERS and THOMAS CRAWFORD as they pull on gloves._

PATHOLOGIST  
McAllister was here about ten minutes ago with Gilchrist's sisters.

HAVERS  
Anything interesting?

PATHOLOGIST  
They were as upset as you'd expect, but you'll have to ring him for the full report.

HAVERS  
_(to THOMAS)  
_Did you know them?

THOMAS  
_Of_ them – both older than him and both doting; we met once, about six months ago, at the opening of Kip Finnegan's exhibition. They were hoping Kip would be Davey's big break, and when he landed Modern Art by himself, I think they transferred those hopes onto Mum. I know they were meant to be in town for the opening tonight.

HAVERS  
In other words: not likely to kill their brother and destroy his career-making show?

_THOMAS shakes his head._

THOMAS  
_(to PATHOLOGIST)  
_So, what've you got so far?

PATHOLOGIST  
Time of death was 3am, give or take a few. The method you already know.

_He turns back the sheet to GILCHRIST's waist to audible winces all around, and THOMAS bends to more closely examine the ugly puncture wounds on GILCHRIST's chest. As he does this the PATHOLOGIST retrieves the palette knife (removed from the body and bagged carefully) to HAVERS, who contemplates the weapon for a moment before offering it to THOMAS._

HAVERS  
Tell me about palette knives, Constable.

_THOMAS straightens to take the bagged knife and eyes it carefully as he explains:_

THOMAS  
Any painter's likely to have one in their toolbox;  
_(with slight self-deprecation)  
_I'm a mere hobby artist and I own two – Mum's cast-offs, but still. They're used to mix paint colors – oil paints – on a palette, just like it sounds, though you can also use them to apply paint to your canvas, in lieu of a brush. This one, with its trowel shape –

_He indicates the outline of the bagged weapon._

THOMAS, CONT.  
- is especially suitable as a painting tool. The blade is short, blunt, very flexible – and clearly, requires some force to penetrate the skin.  
_(to the PATHOLOGIST)  
_Clothing fibers in the wounds?

PATHOLOGIST  
_(nods)  
_Not a pretty sight. Gilchrist was wearing a wool jumper and a cotton t-shirt beneath. Whoever did this really wasn't thinking speed or precision; it appears that they flailed about, stabbing blindly till they hit something vital.

HAVERS  
_(thinking aloud)  
_How strong would the killer have been? As you say, it's not an easy job, stabbing someone through two layers of clothing with a blunt blade, so…?

PATHOLOGIST  
Take a look at this bruising around the mouth.

_THOMAS and HAVERS both bend in to observe; the PATHOLOGIST lays a gloved hand across GILCHRIST's mouth, simulating the killer's._

PATHOLOGIST  
Your killer wanted him silent, enough to bruise with the effort – and Gilchrist's a big guy, so…?

HAVERS  
_(answering for him)  
_Strong enough.

THOMAS  
_(contemplative)  
_So the killer grabbed him from behind. That would facilitate the stabbing somewhat – pulling the blade toward himself – and explain the wild inaccuracy of the blows.

HAVERS  
But why attack from behind? I mean, element of surprise, yeah, but: would Gilchrist have recognized his killer?

THOMAS  
_(shrugs)  
_Davey was, if not always well-respected, at least well-acquainted with the majority of the local population.  
_(to PATHOLOGIST)  
_Did you find any paint traces on the knife?

PATHOLOGIST  
No sir, more's the pity – nor prints, neither. The killer may have been a lumbering oaf, but he took great pains not to leave behind any clues to his identity.

_Frowning, THOMAS contemplates the knife again._

THOMAS  
That's odd.

HAVERS  
What is?

THOMAS  
This palette knife isn't new, but the killer went to a hell of a lot of trouble to make it look that way – eliminating any traces of paint or prints. But if he was so concerned about covering his tracks, why leave the knife at all?

HAVERS  
A signature, maybe – a clue to his identity with no DNA to trace? Or…

_She trails off in thought, looking up at THOMAS._

HAVERS, CONT.  
You thought somebody might be trying to frame your mum, yeah? The ultimate publicity stunt: corpse in the gallery with a palette knife in his heart, the day her exhibition's meant to open.

_THOMAS scowls._

HAVERS, CONT.  
No, I'm with you on this – it sounds almost ridiculously _staged_ – but if they _were_ trying to frame her – or anyone, for that matter – why not use a knife with that person's prints?

THOMAS  
_(his frown deepens)  
_You're suggesting that the killer had access to Mum's flat?

HAVERS  
Maybe – I don't know. But either way –

THOMAS  
_(finishing for her)  
_Why leave behind a damning weapon if you've removed from it all traces of the person you're trying to condemn?

PATHOLOGIST  
Red herring?

HAVERS  
Fair enough. Our killer could have nothing to do with the art scene in Oxford.

THOMAS  
Or everything.  
_(suddenly; one can almost see the light bulb)  
_Gloves – to eliminate any fingerprints, our killer must've been wearing gloves – with a hand over Davey's mouth, and having your chest stabbed to bits with a palette knife isn't going to be painless. Were there any fibers of the glove material in Davey's teeth?

_The PATHOLOGIST quirks a brow at THOMAS, intrigued, and bends to more closely examine GILCHRIST'S mouth, gesturing with gloved fingers as he explains:_

PATHOLOGIST  
Inside of the lips is gashed up a bit – this was definitely no picnic for our boy Gilchrist.

_Frowning in concentration, he turns back GILCHRIST's lips and peers more closely at his teeth._

PATHOLOGIST, CONT.  
Nothing visible, but I can always…Wait.

_He draws a miniscule bit of black fiber from between GILCHRIST's front teeth._

PATHOLOGIST, CONT.  
Nice one, Constable. Vinyl, by the looks of it, but I'll have it analyzed for you to be sure.

THOMAS  
_(with the slightest of smiles)  
_Brilliant – thanks.

PATHOLOGIST  
_(to HAVERS)  
_You're in for it now, ma'am – he's caught the scent. There'll be no living with him till it's over.

_HAVERS sweeps THOMAS with an assessing glance._

HAVERS  
And here I thought you were just a pretty face.

_Startled, THOMAS blushes and the PATHOLOGIST laughs. Rapidly collecting himself, THOMAS shoots back, barely restraining a smile:_

THOMAS  
You're not so bad yourself, ma'am.

_The PATHOLOGIST stifles his laughter and glances between them, uncertain of how HAVERS, as a superior officer, will take this remark, but he needn't have worried; cracking a grin, she peels off her gloves and addresses THOMAS:_

HAVERS  
_(teasingly)  
_All right, clever boy – let's go chat up Finnegan and see if those charms of yours can extort a confession.

THOMAS  
_(without missing a beat)  
_I'll do my best.

_Grinning, he removes his gloves and follows her out of the room._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY, gloved and such, is in a cluttered but brightly contemporary flat, leaning over a computer desk, on which sits a tidy line-up of three-ring binders. Curious, he draws out one and opens it flat on the desk; the contents consist of ledgers, business diary pages, contracts, etc. The pockets, upon closer inspection, contain loose photographs – simple snapshots of young, attractive women standing in the middle of various exhibits in Gilchrist's Galleria. His mobile rings and he answers:_

LYNLEY  
Lynley.

**CUT to INT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

_MCALLISTER is walking through the station purposefully, holding a sheaf of papers._

MCALLISTER  
DS McAllister, sir – here's something to occupy your mind.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

_He looks up from the binder on the desk._

LYNLEY  
Go ahead.

**CUT to INT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

MCALLISTER  
We just got Gilchrist's mobile records. The last call he received was at half-two this morning –

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
_(his voice rises with interest at this new lead)  
_That's – what, half-hour before he was killed?

**CUT to INT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

MCALLISTER  
Thereabouts – and it traces to a telephone box, two blocks south of the Galleria.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
_(thinking aloud)  
_So the killer called Gilchrist to get him to the Galleria –

MCALLISTER, O.S.  
I'm headed down there now with a team.

**CUT to INT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

MCALLISTER  
It's a public phone, so we probably won't have any better luck than we did with the Galleria doors, but you never know. Also, sir: Gilchrist's mobile records included several calls, most of them made in the last week, to and from the office of a Stephen Rushwood at the Tate Britain.  
_(ironically)  
_I guess now we know he wasn't makin' it up – all of it, anyway. I rang over there to see if I could catch this Rushwood, just in case he intended to drive up for the exhibition tonight, but the secretary said he was out of the office for the day, with no word as to whether or not he was heading for Oxford. Nothing in her diary about Del Crawford, either.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
_(frowns)  
_Did she give you a mobile number – any alternative contact for Rushwood?

**CUT to INT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

MCALLISTER  
No, sir, but tell the truth, I didn't give her much to go on – didn't want to push my luck. The last thing we need is the secretary ringing Rushwood with the message that the police want to talk to him about Adele Crawford's exhibition.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
_(darkly)  
_Neither do we need Rushwood to arrive this evening, expecting an exhibition and finding a crime scene…  
_(thinks a moment)  
_Give me Rushwood's office number, will you?

**CUT to INT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

MCALLISTER  
_(more amused than offended)  
_You mean to pull rank, sir?

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY grabs a pen and bit of notepaper off the desk._

LYNLEY  
_(lightly)  
_After a fashion.

MCALLISTER, O.S.  
Right, that's 020 7887…

_He trails off as LYNLEY copies down the number._

LYNLEY  
Thanks – let me know what you find on the phone box.

_He terminates the call and carefully enters the number MCALLISTER gave him._

SECRETARY, O.S.  
Stephen Rushwood's office.

LYNLEY  
_(with excessive politeness)  
_Good afternoon. I was wondering if Mr. Rushwood might be available.

SECRETARY, O.S.  
I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Rushwood is out of the office for the day. I can patch you through to his voice mail –

LYNLEY  
_(pleasantly, though his pained expression belies his feelings at having to resort to such tactics)  
_This is Lord Asherton. A friend of mine referred him to an exhibition opening in Oxford tonight, and I was meant to meet him there, only I've managed to mislay his mobile number. I don't suppose you could oblige?

_The SECRETARY's only response is hesitant silence._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(shamelessly)  
_My friend sent him scans of some of the paintings…I believe the words "early contender for next year's Turner Prize" were referenced?

SECRETARY, O.S.  
_(with delicate irony)  
_Can't say I'd be sorry to see it go to a painter…  
_(decisively)  
_Right then, my lord. Mr. Rushwood's mobile is 070 –

_She trails off, slightly inaudible, as LY NLEY copies the number, smiling to himself._

LYNLEY  
Thank you very much.

_He ends the call and, still smiling, enters the number the secretary gave him; unfortunately, the call goes directly to voicemail._

RUSHWOOD, O.S.  
You've reached Stephen Rushwood with the Tate Britain. Please leave your name and a detailed message and I will return your call as soon as possible. Thank you and good day.

LYNLEY  
_(continuing in his posh and pleasant vein)  
_Yes, Mr. Rushwood, this is Lord Asherton. I wanted to speak with you regarding the – Pre-Raphaelite – collection of Miss Adele Crawford, opening at Gilchrist's Galleria this evening. I would appreciate a call at your earliest convenience. Thank you.

_He ends the call, frowning in frustration at his inability to reach RUSHWOOD, and pockets his mobile to continue with the exploration of GILCHRIST's flat._

**EXT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

_HAVERS and THOMAS CRAWFORD approach the building, discussing their forthcoming interview. HAVERS is carrying FINNEGAN's file._

HAVERS  
So who's Kip Finnegan when he's at home?

THOMAS  
Sort of the rock god of Modern Art – literally, as in the museum. He's their new poster boy, with his face and his paintings splashed all over their promotional materials. Mum defines his style as "graffiti on canvas"; he uses spray-paints, mostly, to create these massive abstract images.

HAVERS  
Abstract, as in…?

THOMAS  
_(smiles; helpfully)  
_More bright amorphous blobs than mutant Picasso characters, in Kip's case. He blends contrasting colors and shapes; people interpret it as they want. He was actually one of the first artists I met back in the day, when I was taking the train up once a week to visit the university, and I'd be lying if I said he hadn't influenced my style somewhat.

_He opens the door for her and they enter the building._

**INT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

_HAVERS and THOMAS continue in their conversation and their walk, winding their way to the interview room._

HAVERS  
How did you meet him?

THOMAS  
_(chuckles)  
_Art show at The Ruskin. I was wandering about, fifteen and wide-eyed and dreaming about getting accepted there, and Kip struck up a conversation. He'd known Mum ages before, of course, and he offered to take me around the college, make introductions, the whole bit.

HAVERS  
_(surprised)  
_What, just 'cause you were Adele's kid?

THOMAS  
_(shrugs)  
_He's a decent guy, Sergeant.

_HAVERS snorts, indicating the file in her hand._

HAVERS  
The bloke who tried to stir up gallery interest with graffiti on their walls, in lieu of a portfolio submission and letter of enquiry?

THOMAS  
Hey, sets you apart from the crowd. Anyway, he was twenty-two, rich, and immortal; what d'you expect?

_He flashes her a cockeyed grin as he opens the door to the interview room._

**INT. POLICE STATION. INTERVIEW ROOM – AFTERNOON.**

_HAVERS and THOMAS enter the room, in which KIP FINNEGAN _is already seated.

HAVERS  
Kip Finnegan, I'm Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers with the Metropolitan Police.

_She sits opposite him at the table and opens the omnipresent notebook; THOMAS takes the chair beside her._

FINNEGAN  
_(looking up at THOMAS, mildly)  
_What'd I do this time, then?

THOMAS  
_(attempting, unsuccessfully, to repress a grin)  
_Best mind your p's and q's with this one, Kip. She doesn't fall for looks and charm.

FINNEGAN  
_(banters back)  
_In other words, I shouldn't have any problems.

_Nonplussed by the ease of their interactions, HAVERS's first question is slightly sharper than necessary._

HAVERS  
Right. Mr. Finnegan, where were you between the hours of eleven last night and eight this morning?

FINNEGAN  
At home, from nine o'clock on. I had a few mates over for cards and drinks, then my girlfriend and I went to bed around two.

_He glances over at THOMAS._

FINNEGAN, CONT.  
Katie. You should have her on speed-dial by now.

_THOMAS gives him a twisted smile in reply and gets up to leave the room, taking out his mobile as he does so._

HAVERS  
You've needed her for an alibi before, I take it?

FINNEGAN  
_(ironically)  
_When your art looks like mine, Sergeant, you're always in need of an alibi.

HAVERS  
_(directly)  
_You had a grudge against Davey Gilchrist, yeah?

FINNEGAN  
_(rolls his eyes and scoffs)  
_Christ, here we go. There's a lot of people I don't like, Sergeant, but I have no interest in killin' 'em off, let alone stabbing 'em to death with a blunt blade.

HAVERS  
_(doggedly)  
_Did you or did you not have a grudge against Davey Gilchrist, sir?

FINNEGAN  
Yeah, I _did_ – for all of a fortnight, then I got this booking at Modern Art and everything's lovely, all right?

HAVERS  
_(applying pressure)  
_He wouldn't extend your exhibit.

FINNEGAN  
Didn't have to, neither – and I ended up a hundred times better off with this gig at Modern Art, so clearly I'm not harboring any hard feelings.  
_(impatient with this line of inquiry)  
_You've got my alibi – or you will as soon as Tom's back. Are we done?

HAVERS  
It's Constable Crawford to you, Mr. Finnegan – and no, not quite.

_FINNEGAN groans and shifts back in his chair._

HAVERS, CONT.  
How did you feel when you learned Gilchrist had booked Adele Crawford through the holidays instead of you?

FINNEGAN  
_(looking sharply up at her)  
_What the hell's that got to do with anything?

HAVERS  
Just answer the question, Mr. Finnegan.

FINNEGAN  
_(reluctantly)  
_I felt sorry for her, all right?

HAVERS  
_(stunned)  
_Beg your pardon?

FINNEGAN  
I'm sure, in and amongst regaling you with stories of my myriad arrests, McAllister neglected to mention that I liked Del once upon a time.

HAVERS  
_(with open disbelief)  
_Liked? What, you mean, as in fancied?

FINNEGAN  
_(shoots her a dark look)  
_I used to come round her dad's pub back in the day. First time I met Del, she was afraid of her own shadow and spilled a tray of drinks over Tommy Lynley.

_HAVERS narrowly bites back her curiosity at this revelation._

FINNEGAN, CONT.  
_(softly, reminiscent)  
_After that she was different – prettier, almost, if that's possible. Anyway, I had a falling out with the lads not long after; I was too much of a rebel for their comfort, or some such. I still came round the pub, but Del barely seemed to see me. Then we were at uni together for a term, and I thought maybe…but by then she was pregnant. She disappeared at Christmas, and the next time I saw her, sixteen years had come and gone and she was visiting The Ruskin with her boy. He was gonna go there too – I ran into him at an art show, a few months before I saw Del again; he was easily as gifted as his mum – but he changed his mind – somethin' about his dad working for the police. And then Del moved into the flat above the Galleria. I'd seen Davey try and pick up art students before, so…I guess, when he booked her exhibit, I figured…

HAVERS  
Figured she was sleeping with him?

FINNEGAN  
_(cynically)  
_Was she, then?

HAVERS  
Not that I know. As I understood it, she brought her son in to keep Gilchrist at bay.

FINNEGAN  
_(chuckles)  
_Del never was a loose girl. Made it that much the worse when she got pregnant.

HAVERS  
_(consciously restraining her curiosity)  
_Do you know who Tom's father was?

FINNEGAN  
Ah, there's a question. Sorry to disappoint, Sergeant, but I wasn't invited to the club that night.

HAVERS  
What d'you mean?

FINNEGAN  
Del got her A-levels – found out she was in. Her dad announced it at the pub and sent her off to a hazy night at the Zodiac with the gang – Cavanaugh, Middleton, Lynley, and the girls.  
_(snorts)  
_I was never much for clubbing anyway.

HAVERS  
_(suddenly finding it difficult to breathe)  
_You're certain that was when…?

FINNEGAN  
Yeah, everyone thinks it was someone at uni that fall, right?

_HAVERS shrugs, perhaps in this moment incapable of verbalization._

FINNEGAN, CONT.  
Not a chance. Del was already showin' a bit when she came to The Ruskin that fall – and big as a house, come Christmas.  
_(with affection)  
_Still gorgeous, o'course. I offered to take her home to my folks' over the holidays so her dad wouldn't find out; my dad's always had money to burn and my mum would've assumed the baby was mine and taken Del in like a shot.

HAVERS  
She said no?

FINNEGAN  
_(twisted smile)  
_Vehemently.  
_(a little softer, his smile saddens)  
_It was like she _wanted_ to give up uni. Wanted to row with her dad and run away. I know her heart wasn't in art school anymore; she was doing well in classes – brilliantly, truth be told – but…

HAVERS  
But…she was in love with Tom's dad?

FINNEGAN  
_(flinches)  
_Yeah, that's a safe assumption. She still is, if you haven't noticed.

HAVERS  
_(carefully; her heart is racing)  
_And you have no idea who he was?

FINNEGAN  
Just that he wasn't at uni that fall – I assume – or she would've been followin' him 'round like a lovesick puppy.

HAVERS  
Does that eliminate anyone in particular?

FINNEGAN  
_(abruptly)  
_Pardon me for askin', but why are you so interested?

HAVERS  
_(too casually)  
_Thomas Crawford reminds me of someone, is all.

_FINNEGAN draws his gaze level and meaningfully with hers._

FINNEGAN  
Yeah. Me too.

_A knock at the door startles them both, and THOMAS ducks in to address HAVERS._

THOMAS  
Katie's at work, Sergeant. She was with a client when I rang; I was about to head down to speak with her –

FINNEGAN  
Right. I'll take a coffee, then – milk, no sugar.

_HAVERS stares at him in disbelief._

THOMAS  
Already on its way.

_He grins and ducks back out of the room._

FINNEGAN  
I've spent my share of afternoons at this station, Sergeant. Tell Tom if it's more than an hour to bring me takeaway Chinese.

_She gives an appalled, incredulous scoff, pockets the omnipresent notebook, grabs FINNEGAN's file, and arrives at the door just as THOMAS returns with the coffee._

HAVERS  
There's something wrong with you people.

THOMAS  
McAllister told you, he's in and out of here at least once a month. Might as well keep him comfortable.

_He flashes her a cheeky grin before ducking in with FINNEGAN's coffee._

**EXT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

_THOMAS and HAVERS walk out of the station. He pauses just outside the door._

THOMAS  
I must admit: lunch would not be unwelcome at this point.

HAVERS  
Aren't we on our way to confirm Finnegan's alibi?

THOMAS  
No worries. This'll take five minutes, tops.

_(grins)_


	7. Katie Bramwell

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. MONSOON (CLOTHING STORE) – AFTERNOON.**

_ADELE all but bursts through the door, her eyes very wide and her breathing rapid. KATHERINE BRAMWELL is chatting with NICOLA, a sales girl, at the register and looks up concernedly._

KATHERINE  
Del, are you all right?

ADELE  
Yes.  
_(draws a quick shallow breath)  
_There's a million things gone wrong right now but – yes, I'm all right.  
_(pauses a moment to collect herself before adding)  
_I need a dress, Katie.

KATHERINE  
_(searching look)  
_A dress…or _the_ dress?

_ADELE answers this with a meaningful stare._

KATHERINE, CONT.  
_(wide-eyed, with something broaching awe)  
_Oh my God…Del…

NICOLA  
Right, what's goin' on?

KATHERINE  
_(disregarding her, to ADELE)  
_Right. Then you'll be wanting this.

_She turns and goes to take down a breathtaking Moroccan-patterned evening dress from the display wall._

**INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

_THOMAS CRAWFORD and HAVERS are sitting in the quintessential chip shop, picking at a much-depleted plate of chips._

HAVERS  
You weren't kidding. These are gorgeous.

THOMAS  
_(through a mouthful of chips)  
_Mum and I make a point of trying out chip shops and frequenting the best. Prob'ly dates back to the days when it was all we could afford.

_He pushes the plate, containing three lonely chips, toward her._

THOMAS, CONT.  
_(grins)  
_You better document this, Sergeant. I never relinquish the last chip.

HAVERS  
I intend to savor it.

_She eats the final chips as THOMAS sits back, quietly contemplative._

THOMAS  
You really think Finnegan had anything to do with this?

HAVERS  
_(shakes her head)  
_I almost wish he did. It would take the pressure off your mum.

_He flashes her a panicked look._

HAVERS, CONT.  
_(quickly)  
_Not that anyone suspects her, least of all me, but…Constable, think about it: we've got a dead man whom, she admits, showed her unwelcome attentions. He's on the floor of her gallery, stabbed with a palette knife, and her story is that she was in the flat all night and didn't hear a thing?

THOMAS  
_(calmly angry)  
_Suppose someone wanted to make it look like she killed him?

HAVERS  
_(fairly)  
_All right, like whom?

_THOMAS falls silent, contemplating this, and HAVERS's mobile rings. She takes it out and eyes the Caller ID._

HAVERS  
_(to THOMAS)  
_Excuse me a moment.  
_(to the mobile)  
_Sir.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY is standing over GILCHRIST's computer desk, paging through one of the three-ring binders with a gloved hand as he holds the mobile to his ear in the other. There is a neat stack of already-perused binders beside him._

LYNLEY  
Gilchrist was clearly a man of expensive tastes – though he hasn't the slightest how to organize a household around them – and more than a bit of a lech. From the beginning, the artists he hosted were consistently young and female –

_He removes a handful of loose photographs from the inside pocket of the binder and flips through them briefly – all feature young women of university age – before putting them back again._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
- and lovely, if these photos are any gauge. One almost wonders if that was why he opened the Galleria in the first place.

**CUT to INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
How'd he manage to get ahold of the place, anyway?

LYNLEY, O.S.  
He used to work as an estate agent.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
The Galleria came on the market, not in the best of condition, and Gilchrist spent tens of thousands on refurbishment – easily all of his savings.

HAVERS, O.S.  
When was this?

LYNLEY  
He bought the place in October of '99, and the first show – a sculpture collection by Gemma Grayson, a student at the Ruskin – was held the following spring. After that, the Galleria hosted a new exhibit every three months or so; Gilchrist's records are meticulous on this front. Different artistic mediums, but consistently young women and almost always from the university.

**CUT to INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
Where'd he get Finnegan then?

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY takes the topmost binder off the stack and opens it on top of the one he was perusing._

LYNLEY  
Looks like he suffered a dry spell about a year ago – the Galleria appears to have been empty from September of last year till this February.

**CUT to INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
Uni girls catch on to his game?

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
_(turning back a few pages)  
_Actually, the last booking before that was a young man who built boats out of driftwood.

**CUT to INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
_(ironically)  
_Losing his touch, then.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
Gilchrist himself had been living in the flat above the Galleria till then; it looks like he put it on the market to make up the difference he was losing in gallery rent. He lucked out; Adele took the lease on the flat in January and the Wellesley sisters – both students at the Ruskin – booked the Galleria February through April for a watercolor exhibit. May through October was Finnegan – a six-month booking for rotating exhibits – and Adele is on the books through the sixth of January.

**CUT to INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
Finnegan had hoped for an extension on his lease, apparently, but Adele was already booked for the winter. He admits to some resentment against Gilchrist at the time, but shortly before his lease ended, the collection was picked up by Modern Art Oxford and, in Finnegan's words, "everything's lovely."

**CUT to** **INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY traces a listing in the binder with his fingertip – presumably FINNEGAN's, as it ends with the words "Modern Art." _

LYNLEY  
Yes, Gilchrist's made a note of that; it's an infinitely superior venue. Hardly grounds for killing your old landlord.

**CUT to INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
_(cagily)  
_There might be another angle, sir…

_She glances up at THOMAS, who is patiently taking in what he can hear of the conversation, and inwardly debates whether to mention her theory in front of him._

HAVERS  
Finnegan came across in the interview as…rather protective of Adele.

THOMAS  
_(chuckles)  
_He fancies her. It's okay, Sergeant; I've known for awhile.

**CUT to** **INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY does not hear THOMAS's remark and, for whatever reason, HAVERS does not repeat it._

LYNLEY  
Protective – how?

**CUT to INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
He said he felt sorry for Adele having to work with Gilchrist – knowing Gilchrist for a lech and all.  
_(hesitates a moment)  
_He knew her a long time ago, when she was pregnant with her son, and they were at the Ruskin together for a term before Adele dropped out.

**CUT to** **INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
_(his voice is, slightly, inexplicably unsteady)  
_Were they – are they – romantically involved? Then or now; that might give him a motive –

**CUT to INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
Not that either of them disclosed, but we're on our way to speak with Finnegan's girlfriend, Katherine Bramwell. If there is or was anything between Finnegan and Adele –

_THOMAS shudders at this, making HAVERS chuckle. _

HAVERS, CONT.  
Unlikely though it is, we'll find out.

THOMAS  
_(under his breath)  
_While I understand why you need to ask these things, Sergeant, you're gonna give me nightmares for weeks. Mum and Kip?

HAVERS  
Does Gilchrist have any sort of record of keys issued?

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY shifts the topmost binder off the one below to glance over its contents._

LYNLEY  
The contracts for more recent artists include a place to indicate, via initial, that keys were issued and returned; like as not, the earliest exhibitors were at Gilchrist's mercy for getting into the gallery.

**CUT to INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
_(grimaces)  
_I'll bet. Any missing initials?

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
None that I've come across as yet. As I said, despite his personal issues, Gilchrist was a meticulous bookkeeper.

**CUT to INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
What about maintenance personnel? Someone other than an artist who might have needed a key to the gallery?

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
The janitor on record – for the past three years, come to it – is a Steven Lundy; and Adele is the only tenant to take the flat.

_He flips to ADELE's contract and skims it quickly._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Her son is listed as a secondary tenant – no surprise there – with a footnote about an extra set of keys. Beyond that, if anyone was issued a key, Gilchrist never made a note of it.

**CUT to INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY, O.S.  
How did you make out with pathology?

HAVERS  
Our killer left us little enough to go on. No prints, no stray hairs –

LYNLEY, O.S.  
_(almost hopefully)  
_Paint on the knife handle?

HAVERS  
_(chuckles)  
_We should be so lucky. DC Crawford gave us our first break, actually – a fragment from the killer's glove, caught between Gilchrist's teeth. Black vinyl, we think, but full analysis is forthcoming.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
_(genuinely impressed)  
_Clever lad. You said "we" a moment ago – is he with you now?

HAVERS, O.S.  
_(the smile is evident in her voice)  
_Feeding me chips as we speak.

LYNLEY  
_(smiling in return)  
_Remind me to ring Hillier later and try to expedite his transfer.

**CUT to INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

_HAVERS tucks the mobile against her cheek and leans forward._

HAVERS  
_(murmurs to THOMAS)  
_You've managed to impress DI Lynley.

_The effect this news has on THOMAS is extraordinary; his eyes brighten and his lips curve upward in a soft, proud smile._

THOMAS  
Really?

HAVERS  
_(continuing in her murmur)  
_You'd better watch your step. Any more singular acts of brilliance and we'll be taking you back to London with us.

_THOMAS'S smile broadens into a grin, which HAVERS returns._

HAVERS  
_(to LYNLEY)  
_Sorry, sir; couldn't resist. I think you made his year.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
_(still smiling himself)  
_Happy to oblige. Have the two of you finished with Finnegan yet?

**CUT to INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
On our way to confirm his alibi. I'll see what I can find on Steven Lundy.

LYNLEY, O.S.  
No, I'll do that.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
You wrap up with Finnegan and then go over Adele's flat – take DC Crawford with you. She may be his mum, but he's got an eye. He may spot something out of the ordinary that we might not.

**CUT to INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
_(looking at THOMAS as she answers LYNLEY)  
_Yes, sir.

LYNLEY, O.S.  
_(casually)  
_Oh, and Havers, I've booked us into the Old Bank Hotel for the night, but I'm afraid you'll be on your own for dinner.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
I ran across Adele Crawford a short while ago and made arrangements to take her out tonight.

HAVERS, O.S.  
_(a strangled protest)  
_Sir?

LYNLEY  
Call me if you find anything at the flat.

_He terminates the call._

**CUT to INT. ST ALDGATE'S KEBABS – AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
_(exclaiming at her silent mobile)  
_Of all the bloody stupid irresponsible –

THOMAS  
_(troubled and concerned at this outburst)  
_Sergeant? Is everything all right?

HAVERS  
_(abruptly collecting herself; her next words are perfectly calm)  
_Yes. After finishing with Finnegan, we're to check out your mum's flat

THOMAS  
_(momentarily puzzled)  
_Mum's flat? You mean – of course, I didn't think.  
_(takes out his mobile)  
_One moment if you please, Sergeant.

_She nods; he enters the number and there is a brief delay._

ADELE, O.S.  
Tommy?

THOMAS  
Mum? Where are you staying tonight?

_Her reply is inaudible._

THOMAS, CONT.  
Gables?  
_(grins)  
_Brilliant; I'll be over by six with takeaway curry.

ADELE, O.S.  
But –

THOMAS  
Chips then. Have to run, Mum – love you!

_He hangs up, presumably before Adele can protest._

**CUT to INT. MONSOON. FITTING ROOM – AFTERNOON**.

_ADELE is standing before the fitting room mirror in the exquisite Moroccan dress. She looks down at the phone in her hand and sighs._

**EXT. MONSOON – AFTERNOON.**

_HAVERS and THOMAS CRAWFORD walk up the street to the storefront, HAVERS peering in the window at all of the costly, exotic apparel._

HAVERS  
People actually work in a place like this?

THOMAS  
_(with a sidewise glance)  
_Mum does.

HAVERS  
_(surprised and slightly disgruntled)  
_You never said.

THOMAS  
You never asked. Artists have to pay their rent somehow.

_He opens the door for her; she pauses before going in._

HAVERS  
So she knows Finnegan's girlfriend.

THOMAS  
_(raising his brows playfully)  
_The plot thickens.

_She shakes her head at him and goes inside._

**INT. MONSOON – AFTERNOON.**

_HAVERS walks in with THOMAS a few steps behind; NICOLA, re-hanging an armful of discarded shirts, spots HAVERS first._

SALES GIRL  
'Afternoon, madam, is there something I can –  
_(delighted surprise as she notices THOMAS)  
_Tom!

_KATHERINE ducks out of a fitting room she was tidying and smiles at him._

KATHERINE  
Tom, what're you doin' here? You've missed your mum by minutes.

THOMAS  
_(frowning)  
_Mum was here?

KATHERINE  
Yeah, she came in to buy a dress.

THOMAS  
_(now really troubled)  
_A dress? What for?

_KATHERINE regards him carefully, just long enough to ascertain that he knows nothing about ADELE's particular errand._

KATHERINE  
_(genuinely enough)  
_I'm not sure, exactly. She was kind of overwrought.

THOMAS  
Of course she's overwrought; she found Davey Gilchrist stabbed to death in the gallery this morning!

KATHERINE  
_(appalled)  
_What?

THOMAS  
_(explaining quickly)  
_That's why we're here, on police business. Kip's a suspect –

KATHERINE  
_(blankly)  
_Kip was home all night –

THOMAS  
_(impatiently)  
_Do you know where she's gone?

KATHERINE  
_(now thoroughly confused)  
_No, I don't…lunch, maybe?

THOMAS  
_(to HAVERS)  
_Sergeant, please excuse me. I'll be right back.

_He hurries out the door, leaving HAVERS, NICOLA and KATHERINE all staring at each other._

KATHERINE  
_(to NICOLA)  
_Nicola, keep an eye on the floor, would you?  
_(to HAVERS)  
_Sergeant, I believe you have some questions for me?

_She leads HAVERS back into a small office, hemmed about by brown shipping boxes, and clears a chair for her to sit. HAVERS does so, taking out the omnipresent notebook._

HAVERS  
Actually, you sort of answered the only official one I had back there.

_She gestures back at the sales floor with her pen before jotting a quick note._

KATHERINE  
About Kip, you mean? Yeah, he was home all night, more's the pity.

_She perches on the edge of the desk opposite._

HAVERS  
What d'you mean?

KATHERINE  
Maybe I should rephrase: he was physically there, if you know what I mean. A bunch of his mates had come over for a card game and he was…

HAVERS  
_(supplies)  
_Preoccupied?

KATHERINE  
To say the least. He had this newspaper clipping in the kitchen about Del's show and was totally fixated.

_At HAVERS's keen look she adds:_

KATHERINE, CONT.  
It's not what you think. Kip fancies her, always has. They were at The Ruskin together for a term before Del dropped out to have Tom. I guess they got off to a rough start when Del was still at her dad's pub, 'cause she still hasn't the time for him. By which I mean: she's civil but not interested. As if he'd have the nerve to ask.

_HAVERS perks up slightly at this, thinking back to the previous conversation with FINNEGAN about ADELE's past._

HAVERS  
Miss Bramwell, this is gonna sound crazy, but I don't suppose there's any chance – ?

KATHERINE  
What, that Kip is Tom's dad?

_She gives a short laugh at HAVERS's resultant expression._

KATHERINE, CONT.  
Good one, Sergeant. I usually have to wait till Christmas parties for that.

HAVERS  
_(a measured reply; she's weary of being laughed at)  
_Is that a no, Miss Bramwell?

KATHERINE  
_(apologetically)  
_Look, I was eight years old and living in Palmers Green at the time, so I can't tell you much about what did or didn't happen here.

HAVERS  
With all due respect, you work with Adele and you're living with Finnegan –

KATHERINE  
And do either of those individuals strike you as the forthcoming sort?

_They exchange glances._

KATHERINE  
_(sighs)  
_Listen, Sergeant, I've worked with Del for three years and lived with Kip for five, and this is all I've been able to come up with.

_HAVERS unconsciously leans forward a little._

KATHERINE, CONT.  
Del got pregnant the summer before she started at uni – summer of '84. I presume the boy was posh, because her dad wanted to blackmail his family – which fits Kip's situation, I suppose.

_She grins at HAVERS's dubious expression._

KATHERINE, CONT.  
His dad's a knight, Sergeant, and his mum's a self-confessed "lady of leisure." Money to burn, and they keep givin' it to Kip, which amounts to roughly the same thing. Anyway, Kip offered to claim the baby as his but Del wouldn't have it. I can't believe she'd react that way if he really was the father.

HAVERS  
Maybe she was concerned for his reputation?

KATHERINE  
_(snorts with laughter)  
_What, Kip's?

HAVERS  
_(quickly; misliking this mocking, however innocent)  
_Okay, or his parents'? She seems a pretty selfless sort.

KATHERINE  
I'll give you that, but then there's Tom.

HAVERS  
What about him?

KATHERINE  
Is there anything about his appearance that even remotely resembles Kip?

HAVERS  
He could favor his mum.

KATHERINE  
Yeah, and in most things he does, but looks…That's the only characteristic Del's ever mentioned to me regarding Tom's dad.

HAVERS  
_(hanging on her words)  
_And?

KATHERINE  
And Tom looks exactly like his father, for whatever that's worth.

_HAVERS sighs and sits back._

HAVERS  
_(to herself)  
_Quite a bit, actually.  
_(more audibly)  
_Thank you, Miss Bramwell. I'll get out of your way.

_She gets up and walks back out toward the sales floor, only to pause in the office door to ask:_

HAVERS, CONT.  
What was Del buying a dress for?

KATHERINE  
_(evenly)  
_I think you need to ask her that yourself, Sergeant.

_They exchange a look of remarkable understanding and HAVERS walks out into the shop._

**EXT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY is walking out to the Bristol when his mobile rings. He answers promptly:_

LYNLEY  
DI Lynley.

**CUT to INT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

_MCALLISTER is standing outside an interview room_

MCALLISTER  
We've got Steven Lundy, sir – janitor at the Galleria. Gilchrist'd arranged for him to run through the gallery last minute, he claims. Boys caught him at the rear entrance of the building twenty minutes ago. He made a good show of surprise at the crime scene, to be sure –

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S FLAT – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY gets into the Bristol._

LYNLEY  
I'm on my way.

**INT. POLICE VEHICLE – AFTERNOON.**

_THOMAS CRAWFORD catches up HAVERS as he drives, glancing over at her now and again._

THOMAS  
Mum says she's fine. She was makin' a lot of calls, canceling the caterers and such, and was feeling low so she stopped by for a chat with Katie. Apparently ended up buying a dress.  
_(frowns)  
_She's not the sort to go shopping to cheer herself up, but it's not like she finds dead men in her gallery every day either.

_HAVERS says nothing, still thinking on her previous conversation with KATHERINE regarding his father._


	8. Something in Plain Sight

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. POLICE STATION. INTERVIEW ROOM – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY and MCALLISTER are seated opposite STEVEN LUNDY, a scrawny, nervous man of about 60, his hands fidgeting in plain sight on the table. His plaid shirt and work trousers are clean but much mended._

LUNDY  
It's like I told you, sir: I went down to Hampstead las' night to see my mum in hospital.

LYNLEY  
Returning at what time, Mr. Lundy?

LUNDY  
I dunno; half-eleven, maybe.

_LYNLEY and MCALLISTER exchange glances._

LYNLEY  
At which time you…?

LUNDY  
Wen' straight to bed, sir. It's no small drive for a bloke like me, Oxford to Hampstead and back in a night.

MCALLISTER  
Can anyone confirm your presence at the hospital?

_LYNLEY looks as though he'd rather disregard this but makes no comment._

LUNDY  
Nurses, o' course. An' the neighbors'll tell you when I got in; they're uni kids. Out and about till all odd hours, they is..  
_(pauses a moment)  
_C'n I ask what this is about, sir? You said "an incident" at the Galleria…  
_(seeing that further explanation is not forthcoming, he adds helpfully)  
_Last I spoke to Davey was yesterday afternoon. I was in checking the lights, toilets, and such for Del Crawford's exhibition and helpin' the decorator gal tie the crepe-y bits about. Davey told me to come back around two today, make sure the place was tidy for the big opening, and then to clean up afterwards first thing tomorrow.  
_(pauses again, taking in their expressions)  
_Something's happened, sir, I can see it in your eyes, only –

LYNLEY  
_(reasonably gently)  
_I'm sorry to have to inform you, Mr. Lundy, but Davey Gilchrist is dead.

_To his incredulity (and MCALLISTER's), LUNDY gives an audible sigh of relief._

LUNDY  
Thank God. I thought you were gonna say Adele.

_In spite of himself, LYNLEY starts a little at this remark_ _and leans forward intently to ask:_

LYNLEY  
Why?

LUNDY  
_(babbling with relief)  
_Well, the whole bloody place is hers, really, what with the flat above and the gallery, and with all the coppers about I figured it had to be –

LYNLEY  
_(carefully)  
_No. You said "Thank God." Thank God it wasn't Adele – or thank God it _was_ Davey Gilchrist?

LUNDY  
_(as panicked as he was relieved a moment ago)  
_Now you're twistin' my words, sir –

LYNLEY  
_(deliberately)  
_Thank God it wasn't Adele, or thank God it was Davey Gilchrist, Mr. Lundy?

LUNDY  
Thank God it wasn't Adele, o' course! I love that girl and her son just like everybody else –

MCALLISTER  
_(leaping in to smother any resultant ire from LYNLEY)  
_Yes, we've established that public opinion is rather favorable where Miss Crawford is concerned. Still, Davey Gilchrist was your employer, Mr. Lundy, and a fair one, according to his books.

LUNDY  
I'm not glad he's gone, if that's what you're implyin'! He was my boss, as bosses go, but I didn't have nothin' against him. Ask Adele – or Kip Finnegan, even! Work wasn't taxing and I got my share o' holidays.

LYNLEY  
_(deftly changing the course of inquiry)  
_As janitor, you have keys to the Galleria, Mr. Lundy.

LUNDY  
O' course; what of it?

LYNLEY  
If we were to conduct a search of your flat, what would we find?

_LUNDY throws up his hands in desperation._

LUNDY  
Washin'-up and laundry to be done, sir – though you're free to look! As I said, I left last night and went straight to me mum, who's took poorly –

MCALLISTER  
And then went home directly for the remainder of the night?

LUNDY  
Yes, sir.

LYNLEY  
_(abruptly)  
_We'll be comparing your fingerprints against those found on the murder weapon, Mr. Lundy.

LUNDY  
_(shaking his head in resignation)  
_I was with my mum, sir. But go ahead if you like.

_LYNLEY looks up at MCALLISTER and indicates a break in the interview._

**INT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY and MCALLISTER are standing outside the interview room, contemplating LUNDY, who is still seated at the table inside._

MCALLISTER  
There aren't any prints on the weapon, sir.

LYNLEY  
Yes, and what does Lundy's reaction suggest?

MCALLISTER  
He's got nothing to hide – or else he made sure there'd be no prints to find.

_LYNLEY acknowledges the latter with a curt inclination of the head._

MCALLISTER, CONT.  
_(frowning)  
_I don't buy it, sir. Lundy's edgy at the best of times; even if he'd had the wherewithal to stab Davey Gilchrist six times with a palette knife and ensure there would be no prints, he'd never in a million years have the nerve to think he'd gotten away with it.

LYNLEY  
_(scowls)  
_I know – more's the pity. Accomplice?

MCALLISTER  
_(shakes his head)  
_Same rules apply there, I think. Best send him home, with a tin of biscuits for Mum for good measure.

_LYNLEY's mobile rings, and he answers:_

LYNLEY  
Lynley.

_The response is not audible, but his expression darkens as he listens._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Thank you.

_He terminates the call and pockets the mobile, then looks decisively at MCALLISTER._

LYNLEY  
Lundy's not out of the woods yet. The Chinese takeaway uproad from the Galleria just found a pair of bloodstained coveralls in their bin.

MCALLISTER  
_(raises his brows in curiosity)  
_Lundy's?

LYNLEY  
Let's find out.

**INT. ADELE'S FLAT – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_HAVERS AND THOMAS walk through the exquisite living room._

THOMAS  
Don't know what there is to find here, tell the truth. If you've agreed Mum's the intended victim and not the killer –

HAVERS  
Yeah, but y' never know. There could be somethin' in plain sight that points us to him, but we'd never know if we didn't check this place out.  
_(smiles slightly)  
_I'm glad of the opportunity in any case. Been wondering what sort of place an artist calls home.

_She glances around the room with no little admiration.._

THOMAS  
My corner's over there.

_He motions to a battered but well-loved chaise longue with an Indian-patterned duvet thrown over it._

HAVERS  
You stay over, what…couple nights a week?

THOMAS  
Depends on whether Granddad's got me scheduled at the pub.

HAVERS  
You're not still workin' for him?

THOMAS  
Officially, no, not since joining up at Thames Valley, but he's still providing me with a room and board, so I try to help out when I can.

_HAVERS steps around the chaise longue for a closer look at two paintings on the wall, brightly abstract and very similar in style to those she saw in CRAWFORD's flat earlier._

THOMAS, CONT.  
_(small smile)  
_Those are mine, of course.

HAVERS  
_(appreciatively; says before she thinks)  
_I thought they looked familiar. You have some just like these at your granddad's, yeah?

THOMAS  
_(frowns in puzzlement)  
_When were you at my granddad's, Sergeant?  
_(adds before she can explain, with neither malice nor concern)  
_Oh right – alibi.

HAVERS  
_(mildly surprised)  
_You're not particularly unsettled by that.

THOMAS  
I was one of the last people to see Davey Gilchrist alive, Sergeant. I know what that means. Honestly, I'm surprised I've been allowed to remain on this case.

HAVERS  
_(admits)  
_I was too, to start with, but McAllister spoke up for you, and having worked with you half a day, I can see why.

_Their eyes meet and linger a moment._

THOMAS  
Thank you, Sergeant.

HAVERS  
_(dryly)  
_Hey, I didn't say you were good at anything – just pretty enough to keep me hanging around till this case is solved.

_She grins impishly – an expression THOMAS can't help but return – as she ducks back around the chaise._

HAVERS  
Come on. Someone as artistic as you, Constable, I'm expecting a guided tour.

THOMAS  
Right then. Mum's bedroom.

_They duck into the bedroom, and HAVERS gapes up at the white evening gown hanging outside the closet door._

HAVERS  
This is gorgeous.

_She picks up the shimmering fabric of the skirt admiringly; THOMAS glances over with an unreadable expression._

THOMAS  
It was meant for her exhibition tonight. Now – who knows?

HAVERS  
Bit fancy-dress for a gallery, don't you think?

THOMAS  
_(wryly)  
_Have you seen her paintings?

_HAVERS raises a curious brow._

HAVERS  
What were _you_ gonna wear, then? Knee-britches and a tailcoat?

THOMAS  
Don't you wish.

_He flashes her a grin and turns back to his nosing-about; meanwhile, HAVERS progresses to the dresser, which holds a small framed photograph of YOUNG THOMAS CRAWFORD, about five years of age (with eyes as big as his head), standing in front of a very distinctive Cornish manor and grinning like an idiot._

HAVERS  
_(excitedly, without thinking)  
_Hey, I've been there! That's…  
_(trails off at the realization)  
_That's Inspector Lynley's place – Howenstow. His ancestral home in Cornwall.

THOMAS  
_(genuinely surprised)  
_Really?  
_(with mild sarcasm and the tiniest pinch of envy)  
_Bein' his partner, I s'pose you get invited over for high tea all the time.

HAVERS  
_(chuckles)  
_Nah, it was sort of a one-off – well, two-off – deal: his engagement party, a few years back, and, more recently, I was at a retreat in Cornwall and his mum let me stay over for a bit.

_THOMAS sits on the edge of the bed, not unlike a little boy, and looks up at her._

THOMAS  
Is it brilliant, being his partner?

_HAVERS sits beside him._

HAVERS  
Well, now and again, yeah. He has issues just like anyone else, though.

THOMAS  
_(with a strangely idealistic smile)  
_Can't see it, somehow.

_She studies him for a moment._

HAVERS  
You really admire him, don't you?  
_(at his nod; curiously)  
_Why?

THOMAS  
_(as though such should be obvious)  
_Why not? He's a titled copper. You don't get many of those in my neck of the woods.

HAVERS  
_(conceding this)  
_Nor mine – fair enough. Seriously, though, why Lynley?

_THOMAS contemplates his answer for a moment while HAVERS continues:_

HAVERS, CONT.  
His reputation's not without a bit of tarnish, for all that he's a great officer.  
_(with sudden realization)  
_We were in Oxford on another case, about a year ago – the Morag McNicholl murder. Did you meet him?

THOMAS  
No, I was on holiday at the time – up in Inverness with Mum. Had to hear all the great stuff secondhand – how we had a brilliant DI in town, along with his lovely sergeant.

_He gives her a sidewise grin; she flashes back a look of very doubtful assertion._

THOMAS, CONT.  
Hey, I didn't start that one – though I'll be only too happy to corroborate it.  
_(grins)  
_You _were_ undercover, Sergeant. A lot of blokes find that – erm – rather exciting.

_She clears her throat, and the color in her cheeks is very high._

HAVERS  
Right, so: returning to the case – or was it Lynley?

THOMAS  
_(back to practicality)  
_Both, and to tell the truth, I can't say exactly why I admire him.

HAVERS  
_(warningly)  
_Not for the pretty sergeant, I hope. I told you, he's married; there's nothing like that between us.

THOMAS  
_(grins)  
_Nah, the sergeant would be incidental – albeit a nice side bonus. It's hard to explain without sounding like an idiot –

HAVERS  
Little late for that, don't you think?

THOMAS  
_(blushing slightly)  
_He's what I want to be when I grow up, I guess.

HAVERS  
What, a successful DI? Why – ?  
_(falls silent at the realization)  
_Oh…because your dad was a DI.

THOMAS  
Look, it's nothing, okay? Prob'ly not even true; Mum's never said, and Granddad…I mean, Granddad didn't see me till I was 15; how was he to know?

HAVERS  
Well, there was certainly no love lost between him and your father.

THOMAS  
_(sighs)  
_You want to know what I know about my dad, Sergeant? For reals – what Mum says, not hearsay down the pub, not Granddad's inventions?

_She nods – encouragingly, not overeager._

THOMAS, CONT.  
_(slowly and carefully, like a recitation)  
_He finished his last year at uni the summer before her one and only term there, making him twenty-one-ish and Mum seventeen. He wasn't an artist; I think he read History, but Mum wasn't sure at what college. He came into Granddad's pub now and again with his friends, but he didn't seek Mum out. His friends took her clubbing the night she found out she'd got into the Ruskin, and – well, you can probably figure the rest for yourself.

_His cheeks are slightly flushed as he continues:_

THOMAS, CONT.  
She says he probably never loved her – it's the only bad thing she's ever said about him – but I can't believe it, somehow. She loved – and still loves – him, easily as much as she loves me, never mind she hasn't seen or heard from him in over twenty-five years.  
_(hesitates a moment before adding the last bit in a soft voice)  
_He looked like me, and his name was Thomas.

_This information – a veritable confirmation of her early suspicions – strikes HAVERS deeply, though her reaction is carefully contained, manifesting only as an almost imperceptible widening of the eyes. THOMAS exhales in a weighty slow breath and turns to give her a twisted smile._

THOMAS  
That's privileged information, you know. You could win thirty quid down at the station just for knowing his first name.

_He hops off the bed and offers a hand to help her to her feet._

THOMAS  
Enough with the weepy reminiscences. Let's catch up with Sergeant McAllister and see if we can get Mum cleared once for all.

_He glances at his watch._

THOMAS  
And quickly, if we can. I have to grab chips and be back across town before six.

_He grins and leads HAVERS back out through the flat._

**INT. PATHOLOGY LAB – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY and MCALLISTER, both gloved, are standing over a table on which their pathologist has examined the bloodstained coveralls._

PATHOLOGIST  
The blood is Gilchrist's, and the coveralls are definitely Lundy's. I've lifted a few hairs from inside the collar; it'll take a good three days for a definitive DNA match, but at some point in time, the garment was his.

_He indicates a tag marked "S. Lundy" inside the collar._

PATHOLOGIST  
And, as if that weren't enough, I found these in the pocket.

_He holds out a pair of black vinyl gloves and turns them over; the palm of one is peppered with teeth marks. As LYNLEY takes the gloves for closer inspection, the PATHOLOGIST produces the bagged microscopic fragment found in GILCHRIST's teeth and sets it over a missing patch on the teeth-marked glove. _

LYNLEY  
_(thinking aloud)  
_It could've been a set-up. Where did the bloodstains come from?

PATHOLOGIST  
That's the interesting part. Gilchrist was stabbed from behind; the killer had a hand – gloved, of course – over Gilchrist's mouth so he wouldn't cry out, with a grip sufficient to bruise. He stabbed Gilchrist six times in the chest – blind blows, consistent with the bloodstains on the cuffs.

MCALLISTER  
So what's the interesting part?

PATHOLOGIST  
At this point, your killer hasn't damned himself – at least, so far as he knows. Those bloodstains are minimal and relatively easy to overlook – and then you get these.

_He indicates two large, patchy bloodstains on the front of the coveralls._

LYNLEY  
_(theorizing)  
_He carried – or dragged – Gilchrist into the gallery.

MCALLISTER  
_(under his breath)  
_Great congratulatory present for Adele.

_LYNLEY shoots him a look, clearly in accord with his sentiment._

PATHOLOGIST  
That's the interesting bit: the bloodstains aren't consistent with a lot of pressure, more like – the killer leaned over Gilchrist or rubbed against him for a moment –

LYNLEY  
None of which sounds consistent with what we know of the killer. Someone who made certain there were no prints or clothing fibers wouldn't damn himself by getting the victim's blood all over his clothes, let alone discarding them a block away from the murder scene.

MCALLISTER  
That sounds more like Lundy – act of a panicked man.

LYNLEY  
Suppose they were working together: someone else masterminds the situation, eliminates any trace of his presence, then sends in Lundy as the henchman – the one who takes the fall.

PATHOLOGIST  
Or is it another red herring?

LYNLEY  
_(curious)  
_What do you mean?

PATHOLOGIST  
Your killer's no fool; he knows about prints and clothing fibers and DNA – and how to avoid leaving them behind. So why leave the murder weapon – and a distinctive weapon at that?

MCALLISTER  
Point of pride, maybe?

PATHOLOGIST  
Or to shift the blame onto someone specific?

LYNLEY  
_(frowning)  
_You mean Adele?

PATHOLOGIST  
Maybe – but consider this latest find: coveralls that clearly belonged at some point to Gilchrist's janitor, covered with Gilchrist's blood. Now who's the finger pointing at?

LYNLEY  
There's no consistency to it…

PATHOLOGIST  
And maybe that's the point. Maybe the killer wants you pursuing leads in every direction. That way, if he did slip up and leave a trace of DNA, you'd have a laundry list of suspects before you ever got to him.

MCALLISTER  
_(thinking aloud)  
_Lundy's only got an alibi till – what, midnight at best?

LYNLEY  
But do we really think he's capable of this? Never mind eliminating prints; Lundy's barely a shadow of Gilchrist. Could he physically restrain Gilchrist while repeatedly stabbing him with enough force for a blunt, flexible blade to penetrate?

MCALLISTER  
_(frowns)  
_Maybe not, but I'd dearly love to know how Gilchrist's blood got on his coveralls.

LYNLEY  
I'll find out. You go to Lundy's neighborhood and see if anyone remembers seeing him at all last night; in the meantime –

MCALLISTER  
_(nods)  
_We can hold him on suspicion. Tell the truth, I'll rest easier knowing we have him in custody, no matter his role in this murder.

LYNLEY  
Fair enough.

**INT. POLICE STATION – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_The station is slightly quieter, but by no means unpopulated, as HAVERS and THOMAS CRAWFORD walk back in._

HAVERS  
Y'know, the part I still can't figure out is: what the hell was Gilchrist doing at the Galleria at three in the morning?

THOMAS  
_(shrugs)  
_Well, he did own the place, and the right to be in it at all odd hours. Used to bother me – till Mum got the deadbolt installed. Maybe he couldn't sleep and decided to double-check the decorations or something. He was that excited about the opening tonight; I wouldn't put it past him.

LYNLEY  
Or maybe someone rang him.

_LYNLEY approaches behind them, from the direction of the interview room. Both turn to face him, THOMAS with interest and HAVERS with a very clear recollection of the end of their last conversation – namely, his plans for the evening._

LYNLEY  
Someone rang Gilchrist at half-two this morning from the phone box two blocks south of the Galleria. Whatever they said must've been sufficient to bring him down there.

THOMAS  
You have a certain someone in mind, sir?

LYNLEY  
_(grimly)  
_Stephen Lundy's coveralls just turned up in the bin of a Chinese takeaway, covered in Gilchrist's blood.

THOMAS  
_(shocked)  
_Lundy?

LYNLEY  
We're currently holding him on suspicion, though I have little doubt that we'll shortly be charging him with the murder. I was just on my way to have another chat with him –  
_(to HAVERS)  
_- if you'd care to join me, Sergeant.

HAVERS  
_(mutters)  
_Wouldn't mind catching up with you myself, sir.  
_(more pleasantly, to THOMAS)  
_Constable, I believe you had plans to meet your mum?

_THOMAS, still in shock from the news about LUNDY, does not perceive LYNLEY's reaction to this remark._

THOMAS  
_(reluctantly)  
_I did – but in light of this…

LYNLEY  
_(recovering himself)  
_Please, by all means: go see your mother, Constable. We'll finish with Lundy and call you with any news.

THOMAS  
_(persisting)  
_Sir, I can ring ahead – let Mum know I'm finishing up here. She'll understand. At this stage in the case, I'd surely be better occupied –

LYNLEY  
_(gently)  
_Your mum witnessed a traumatic scene this morning, Constable. I personally can't think of any better occupation for you right now than being with her.

THOMAS  
_(clearly still unconvinced, though LYNLEY's remark has swayed him)  
_If you're certain.

HAVERS  
_(genuinely)  
_We'll deal with Lundy, Constable. Go see your mum.

THOMAS  
_(sighs; gratefully)  
_Thank you both. I'll see you first thing tomorrow.

LYNLEY  
Good night, Constable.

_THOMAS turns to leave the building. The moment he is out of earshot HAVERS glares up at LYNLEY._

HAVERS  
_(venomously)  
_Right, that was smooth. Get him out of the way now so you can have your date later, with no one the wiser. Is that it?

LYNLEY  
_(retorts)  
_It's not a date, Havers – it's dinner with someone I knew a long time ago.

HAVERS  
Who happens to be wrapped up in our current murder investigation, sir. Remind me: does protocol allow for that?

LYNLEY  
_(calling her bluff)  
_I'll ask McAllister's permission, if you like. Or would you rather I try to catch DC Crawford?

_He gestures in the direction in which THOMAS just left._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
I'm sure he'd have no objections to me taking his mother to dinner.

HAVERS  
_(not backing down)  
_Depends on your agenda for the night, I imagine.

LYNLEY  
_(sharply)  
_What's that supposed to mean?

HAVERS  
Adele Crawford's a beautiful woman.

LYNLEY  
And – what, exactly? You don't think I can control myself in her presence?

HAVERS  
_(frankly)  
_Were you involved with her, sir?

LYNLEY  
_(snaps back, his expression betraying nothing)  
_I don't see what business that is of yours, Sergeant – now if you'll excuse me, I have an interview to conduct.

_He abruptly begins walking away toward the interview room; HAVERS, furious, hurries after him._

HAVERS  
I'm the one –

_She grabs his arm, forcing him to face her._

HAVERS, CONT.  
I'm the one who's gonna be fielding questions about it later, sir.

LYNLEY  
And if I tell you nothing, you won't have to lie about it.

_He opens the door to the interview room and goes in; HAVERS, still furious, follows him__._

**INT. POLICE STATION. INTERVIEW ROOM – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_LUNDY looks up at LYNLEY and HAVERS as they walk in, both immediately reverting to professional-interrogative-police mode as they enter. His distress, coupled with emotional exhaustion, blinds him to the sustained tension between them. _

LYNLEY  
Mr. Lundy, this is Detective Sergeant Havers.

_They sit opposite him at the table._

LUNDY  
_(dutifully)  
_Ma'am.  
_(wearily but still trying to be helpful)  
_More questions for me, sir?

LYNLEY  
Let's start with your work uniform, Mr. Lundy. You wear coveralls?

LUNDY  
Yes sir, dark blue.

LYNLEY  
_(meaningfully)  
_Name in the collar?

LUNDY  
_(automatically)  
_Yes sir –  
_(eyes widening)  
_How'd you know that, sir?

_All of this being new to HAVERS, she gazes calmly at Lundy, taking in every word while silently suppressing the desire to throttle LYNLEY. Every now and again she makes a notation in the omnipresent notebook._

LYNLEY  
Where were you at three o'clock this morning?

LUNDY  
_(echoes in surprise)  
_Three o'clock, sir? In bed, like any decent human bein'. Those uni kids'll tell you, when I'm home, I'm in for the night. If anything, I get after 'em for makin' a racket in the wee hours.

LYNLEY  
You claim not to have seen Davey Gilchrist since – what time yesterday?

LUNDY  
Half-five, I think it was, 'fore I left to see Mum.

LYNLEY  
Wearing your coveralls – or did you leave them at the Galleria?

LUNDY  
_(thinks a moment)  
_Weren't too dirty, sir, so I left 'em at work.

LYNLEY  
Not in a bin behind a Chinese takeaway?

LUNDY  
_(confused and growing worried)  
_What d'you mean, sir?

LYNLEY  
_(directly)  
_Your coveralls were found a short while ago in said bin, covered in Davey Gilchrist's blood. Would you like to tell me how they got there?

_LUNDY, appalled, gapes back at him._

LUNDY  
Sir, no sir, I don't know anything about that! I hung 'em in the cupboard like I always do, then I went straight to m' car and drove to Hampstead. Anybody'll tell ya – Davey was still there, alive and well, with the decorator and Adele, hangin' the last of the draperies.

_LYNLEY exhales in a frustrated huff and HAVERS, seeing her window, steps in._

HAVERS  
_(gently)  
_Mr. Lundy, do you have any idea how Davey Gilchrist's blood could have got on your coveralls?

LUNDY  
_(nearly in tears)  
_No ma'am, please believe me. I didn't hate Davey and I loved Adele like she were my own daughter. I never went to Davey's little shindigs at the gallery; never had much time for the uni girls or their art – but I was gonna come tonight. Adele's a proper artist, as I see it, and I wanted to be there to support her.

_In spite of herself HAVERS glances over at LYNLEY. It is clear in his expression that he'd like to concede LUNDY's innocence but can't bring himself to do so on the evidence provided, and being resourceful, she attempts another angle._

HAVERS  
Could someone else have had access to your coveralls after you left them last night?

LUNDY  
S'pose so. Cupboard doesn't have a lock, so – anyone with a key to the gallery, I guess.

HAVERS  
Who would that include, exactly?

LUNDY  
Just Adele and Davey, far as I know, though I s'pose any of Davey's previous artists could've copied theirs before turning 'em in.

_HAVERS perks up at this suggestion and exchanges a quick glance with LYNLEY. Their rapport is slowly resuming._

LYNLEY  
Mr. Lundy, at any point between half-five yesterday evening and two o'clock this afternoon, did you call Davey Gilchrist's mobile?

LUNDY  
No sir. He said come by at 2:00 today, so I figured that was instruction enough.

LYNLEY  
Thank you, Mr. Lundy. That's all for now.

_He rises, signaling an end to the interview, and HAVERS follows suit._

LUNDY  
_(hopelessly)  
_But you're still gonna keep me overnight, aren't you?

_HAVERS glances at LYNLEY for the answer to this._

LYNLEY  
_(truly apologetic)  
_I'm afraid so.

_LUNDY nods sadly as LYNLEY opens the door, admitting two CONSTABLES to take charge of LUNDY as LYNLEY and HAVERS exit._

**INT. POLICE STATION – EARLY EVENING.**

_Both LYNLEY and HAVERS are subdued as they leave the interview room, their resentment smoldering in the face of LUNDY's distress. Their conversation resumes in hushed tones._

HAVERS  
What's his alibi?

LYNLEY  
In town visiting his mum at hospital; the nurse confirmed that he left at ten o'clock last night, and we're waiting on McAllister for any confirmation of his return from the neighbors.

HAVERS  
In other words, he hasn't got one.  
_(at LYNLEY's look)  
_You really think he's capable, sir? Gilchrist's twice his size –

LYNLEY  
And we've got the coveralls, bloodstained and abandoned in a back lot – easily the act of someone in a guilt-ridden panic.

HAVERS  
_(without ire)  
_It doesn't mesh, sir: the palette knife, cleared of all traces of paint and prints – and now this?

LYNLEY  
Maybe he planned it all, but when time came to kill Gilchrist – when he saw the blood, heard Gilchrist's cries – he lost his composure and abandoned the evidence in the first bin to hand.

HAVERS  
_(considering)  
_If Lundy rang Gilchrist at half-two, he'd be likely to come, yeah? He's worked for Gilchrist three years; if he said something in the gallery needed attention, whatever the hour, Gilchrist'd be there in a heartbeat.

LYNLEY  
I'd thought of that…and his first reaction to news of Gilchrist's death was "Thank God."

HAVERS  
_(convinced she's misheard)  
_Sorry?

LYNLEY  
Upon seeing the police cordon, he assumed something had happened to Adele, or so he claims, and he was almost mindless with relief when we told him Gilchrist was dead – though, of course, he denied any ill will toward his employer.

_As HAVERS processes this he adds:_

LYNLEY, CONT.  
And he wasn't terribly concerned about having his prints checked against those on the weapon.

HAVERS  
_(automatically)  
_There weren't any –  
_(catching his drift)  
_You think he knew that?

LYNLEY  
_(sighs)  
_Yes, I think perhaps he did.

_HAVERS watches his eyes for a moment and nods slowly at the judgment she reads in them._

HAVERS  
You gonna charge him, sir?

LYNLEY  
Tomorrow. We can hold him till half-three; if we haven't had a breakthrough by then…

HAVERS  
Right.  
_(clears her throat)  
_Best get back then, sir. Not much more you can do tonight, and anyway, you've got dinner plans.

_There is no innuendo in her statement, though her eyes betray her unease._

LYNLEY  
_(at once grateful for this compromise and guilted by his attitude earlier)  
_Havers –

HAVERS  
_(with a cockeyed attempt at a smile)  
_Just – don't do anything stupid, okay, sir? Leastways, not publicly.

LYNLEY  
_(returning the expression)  
_I'll be on my best behavior, Detective Sergeant.

_He leaves and HAVERS, with a sigh, gravitates to MCALLISTER's desk._


	9. The Time of Her Life

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. ADELE'S BEDROOM – EVENING.**

_ADELE, wearing her gorgeous Moroccan dress, is sitting in front of a mirror, fussing with her hair. It is now curly and loose, and she draws it to one side, then the other, then up to the crown of her head, silently debating where to place a lily-shaped clip. She pauses a moment to study the effect and –_

**CUT to INT. THE ZODIAC (NIGHTCLUB). GIRLS' TOILET – NIGHT.  
****SUMMER, 1984 (FLASHBACK)**

_YOUNG ADELE, wearing a short peasant dress and the slightest touches of makeup, is standing before the mirror, fussing awkwardly with her long, loose black curls, while JESSICA reapplies lip gloss. The hairstyle is significant and possibly symbolic, as YOUNG ADELE's hair has till now always been confined in a braid._

JESSICA  
_(through her pout)  
_He fancies you, y'know.

YOUNG ADELE  
_(startled out of her self-assessment)  
_Sorry?

JESSICA  
Kip Finnegan. You know, the Irish bloke.

_YOUNG ADELE's face falls, but JESSICA is still fixated on her own visage._

JESSICA  
He was gutted when you left with us, didn't you see? And he's forever in the pub, even though Pete and Tommy sent 'im packing months ago.

_A stall door opens with the exit of SOPHIE, who splashes her hands at the tap and grabs YOUNG ADELE's arm.  
_

SOPHIE  
_(clearly inebriated)  
_For Christ's sake, Del, would you stop fussing? You're already too bloody gorgeous for your own good.

_JESSICA flashes them a look, SOPHIE's jealousy mirrored in her eyes, as she follows them out of the bathroom._

**INT. THE ZODIAC – NIGHT.**

_It is everything a club should be: loud music, flashing lights, and gorgeous YOUNG PEOPLE dancing themselves into a frenzy. As YOUNG ADELE, JESSICA, and SOPHIE reemerge and make their way toward the rest of their group, JESSICA breaks away to grab YOUNG LYNLEY and full-out snog him for several seconds. As she draws back she murmurs:_

JESSICA  
You look incredible tonight, by the way.

_He scarcely notices this minor seduction attempt as his eyes light on YOUNG ADELE, lingering on the fringe of the group and looking everywhere but at him. He looses his hands from JESSICA's waist, to which they'd gone automatically while she was kissing him, and as he pulls away she mutters:_

JESSICA, CONT.  
Leave it, Tommy. She's just a kid.

_He turns back with a small, wry smile._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
And it's just a dance. What are you worried about?

_He is not entirely sober but much more in control of his senses than most of the others. He walks over to where YOUNG ADELE is chatting timidly with SOPHIE, MIDDLETON, and CAVANAUGH, and curls an arm about her shoulders, startling her._

YOUNG LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(half shouting over the din, as one does in clubs)  
_So are you gonna dance with me, then?

_She looks back over her shoulder and finds her face a matter of inches from his. He is perhaps twice as attractive as he was in the previous flashback; his hair is glossy, his skin flawless, and his lips curve upward in a gorgeous smile. _

YOUNG ADELE  
_(heart in her throat, she stammers)  
_Um…sure!

_SOPHIE, despite her intoxication, does not react to this with pleasure, though she does not interfere. _

_YOUNG LYNLEY releases YOUNG ADELE to take her hand and lead her out amongst the other dancers. The current song is a ballad, and he looses her hand in order to bring both of his to her waist. There is a flicker of something in her eyes when he does this – half giddy terror, half breathless anticipation – then she timidly brings her hands to his shoulders. His expression is somber and absolutely exudes sensuality, and with his hands at the small of her back he draws her forward till her body is pressed against his. Stunned but in ecstasy, she closes her eyes and rests her cheek against his shoulder._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(lightly teasing)  
_Tell the truth, Adele, I'd half forgotten what you look like up close.

YOUNG ADELE  
_(whispers)  
_I hadn't.

_YOUNG LYNLEY draws back slightly, not having heard her._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Sorry?

YOUNG ADELE  
_(opens her eyes and blurts, blushing)  
_Nothing. Never mind.

_He draws her back against him again and, in compliance with an unspoken prompt, her hands shift to the nape of his neck. His hair is nearly shoulder-length and her fingers just brush the ends of it – a moment of stolen delight savored with closed eyes._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(softly)  
_I daresay, even if I had remembered, you never had this exquisite hair before.

_This time it is YOUNG ADELE who draws back a little, startled by his remark, and he takes advantage of the shifted proximity to bring a hand to her hair, then down her cheek to linger, half against her throat, with his thumb tracing her lips._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(caressingly)  
_I couldn't have missed all this, surely?

_YOUNG ADELE realizes that he's not just talking about her hair, and her voice catches as she attempts to speak._

YOUNG ADELE  
_(tremulously)  
_M-My lord –

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(softly)  
_Thomas.

YOUNG ADELE  
_(barely an echo)  
_Thomas…

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(whispers)  
_Kiss me.

_His words are inaudible in the din yet perfectly articulate. YOUNG ADELE, exhilarated and terrified, lowers her eyes to his lips._

YOUNG ADELE  
I can't…

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(were it possible, softer still)  
_Adele…

_She looks up to meet his eyes, and, trembling with anticipation and uncertainty, she leans forward to bring her lips against his. YOUNG LYNLEY takes initiative at that point and kisses her back – slowly but passionately, parting her lips and distinctly utilizing tongue action. For a few moments they're both caught up in the act, threading fingers through one another's hair and pulling each other closer – and then YOUNG ADELE pulls back with a breathless gasp. She stares up into YOUNG LYNLEY's eyes, which are dark and sensual and yet somehow, strangely, startled – as though he was caught off-guard by the moment as much as she. They are a heartbeat away from launching into a second round when they overhear:_

JESSICA, O.S.  
Don't know who the bleeding hell she thinks she is, anyway – little pub rat.

SOPHIE, O.S.  
Come off it, Jess, it's just a snog. Not like he gives a damn about her –

_YOUNG ADELE pulls free of YOUNG LYNLEY, blushing painfully, and hurries out of the club._

**EXT. THE ZODIAC – NIGHT.**

_YOUNG ADELE stumbles outside, followed by YOUNG LYNLEY._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Hey Adele, wait up.

_It's a balmy summer evening, perfect for things to take place which really ought not, although the change in location temporarily serves to take the blaze off YOUNG LYNLEY's blinding sensuality and sober the pair into acting like ordinary acquaintances._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Are you all right?

YOUNG ADELE  
Yeah, just…had to clear my head. Too many people, and the music…

YOUNG LYNLEY  
I know.

_They stand on the curb for a moment, YOUNG ADELE hugging herself, though the weather is anything but cold._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Come back to my place?

_He speaks it as a simple suggestion, nowhere near a come-on, and though she looks up at him in surprise, it's not the shock of an anticipated seduction._

YOUNG LYNLEY, CONT.  
It's only a bit of a walk, and everyone who could be there is still here.  
_(smiles awkwardly)  
_Don't know about you, but I could do with a bit of peace and quiet at the moment.

_YOUNG ADELE nods, somewhat numbly, and falls into step with him as he walks down the street._

YOUNG LYNLEY, CONT.  
So…The Ruskin.

_He glances over at her, though she continues to stare at her feet and the street ahead._

YOUNG LYNLEY, CONT.  
That's impressive.

YOUNG ADELE  
_(still a trifle numb)  
_Yeah.

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(laughs shortly)  
_Actually, screw impressive – that's bloody impossible.

_She laughs in spite of herself, sparking a proper smile from YOUNG LYNLEY._

YOUNG ADELE  
_(still not really looking at him)  
_Dad says he was always certain, but I never expected it, not in a million years.

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(lightly, curious now)  
_You're a painter?

_She does look at him then, surprised at the accuracy of his guess._

YOUNG ADELE  
Yeah. Pre-Raphaelite – at least, that's the style I'm aiming for.

_She amends it with mild self-deprecation, making YOUNG LYNLEY chuckle._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Rossetti or Waterhouse?

_Her surprise only increases._

YOUNG ADELE  
Definitely Rossetti…  
_(a grin breaks through)  
_With a dash of Waterhouse.

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(grins in return)  
_I knew it. You must haunt the Tate like mad.

YOUNG ADELE  
_(wistfully)  
_Someday, maybe…I've been making do with semi-annual trips for the past five years –  
_(suddenly)  
_- and anyway, I thought you read History.

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Ah, the benefits of a liberal arts education.

_He grins smugly, albeit with some small self-contempt._

YOUNG ADELE  
_(chuckles, as at an old joke)  
_Really? I thought it was just a haven for posh boys who didn't know what they wanted to be when they grew up.

_YOUNG LYNLEY flinches at this but meets her gaze directly._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Touché.

YOUNG ADELE  
_(mortified)  
_I'm sorry; I didn't mean –

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(quietly)  
_I know.  
_(brightly)  
_Anyway, it's all right. Tell me about you: what happens after The Ruskin?

YOUNG ADELE  
_(exhaling slowly at the magnitude of this question)  
_I really haven't thought that far ahead, my lord.

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(insistently)  
_Thomas. And it's no use being modest, you know: any girl who calls her work "Rossetti with a dash of Waterhouse" fosters ambitions a bit loftier than a university education.

_She groans with dismay._

YOUNG LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(laughs lightly)  
_It's only fair: you found out my weakness in about 35 seconds.

YOUNG ADELE  
_(sighs with concession)  
_All right then. Italy.

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(intrigued, he echoes her)  
_Italy? Where, why – which part?

YOUNG ADELE  
_(laughs)  
_You want to give me a moment to catch my breath and get my passport?

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(surprised)  
_What, you mean: you've never been?

YOUNG ADELE  
_(shakes her head)  
_One game at a time, Dad says.

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(curiously)  
_And do you bide by every proclamation made by the honorable John Crawford?

_YOUNG ADELE shoots him a look._

YOUNG ADELE  
Only so long as I'm under his roof.  
_(adds hastily)  
_I mean, don't get me wrong; I love Dad to bits, but – parental affections can be a bit stifling.

_He scowls and stops walking; YOUNG ADELE follows suit._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(darkly)  
_Can't say I know about that, but…I think parents are a sight better at teaching their children what _not_ to be.

_She looks at him with a newfound empathy._

YOUNG ADELE  
_(gently)  
_I'm truly sorry, my lord.

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(quietly)  
_Thomas.

YOUNG ADELE  
_(likewise)  
_Thomas.

_He retains her gaze for a long moment before suddenly brightening once again._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Anyway, you must have one hell of a portfolio.  
_(smiles sincerely)  
_I'd love to see your work sometime.

_YOUNG ADELE looks back at him with blatant adoration._

YOUNG ADELE  
Okay.

_They walk on in semi-companionable silence._

**INT. YOUNG LYNLEY'S ROOM – NIGHT.**

_YOUNG ADELE walks into the room, followed by YOUNG LYNLEY, who closes – and locks – the door behind him. It's an unmistakable signal of his intent, even to YOUNG ADELE in her naïveté; she hears this and turns, her eyes large and the slightest bit terrified._

YOUNG ADELE  
My lord –?

_YOUNG LYNLEY takes her by the forearms and kisses her, more gently than in the club, but just as passionately – a lingering, reassuring kiss, not a seduction as yet. After a few moments she pulls away and stares intently at the floor, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths._

YOUNG ADELE  
Sir – my lord…a-are you sure?

_He brings a hand to her cheek and turns her face toward his. His eyes, looking down into hers, are dark and intense but not lust-crazed; he gives a small, almost sad smile._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(softly)  
_It's Thomas, you know.

YOUNG ADELE  
_(whispers)  
_Thomas.

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(even softer)  
_And yes, I am.

_He leans forward and kisses her, his fingers moving into her hair as the kiss deepens, and YOUNG ADELE surrenders, catching at his back to steady herself as she kisses him in return. _

**INT. YOUNG LYNLEY'S ROOM – NIGHT.**

_YOUNG LYNLEY, in an unbuttoned shirt and trousers that are not quite off, is on his bed, making love to YOUNG ADELE, who is lying beneath him with her dress hiked up and her bare legs bent at the knees, instinctively clenching at his hips. The scene is breathlessly intense; YOUNG LYNLEY's movements are unhurried and gentle, and he is kissing YOUNG ADELE – who is breathing very raggedly and clutching his back beneath the shirt; there are marks of tears on her face – on the lips, eyelids, cheeks, throat…_

**INT. YOUNG LYNLEY'S ROOM – NIGHT.**

_YOUNG LYNLEY is lying on his side in bed, facing YOUNG ADELE and stroking her tousled hair. Both are disheveled but still mostly clothed._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(softly)  
_I'm sorry.

YOUNG ADELE  
_(with a wounded sound of protest)  
_No – please – !

_YOUNG LYNLEY brings a hand to her lips, gently silencing her._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
I'm not sorry we did this – I'm sorry we didn't do it before.

_He says this with no hint of humor or irony; she closes her eyes tightly and he leans forward to brush her eyelids with his lips._

YOUNG LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(hushed and ardent)  
_Adele…you're amazing…

_He moves down to kiss her throat; she gasps and buries her fingers in his hair as he continues his litany in a ragged murmur._

YOUNG LYNLEY, CONT.  
Clever…gorgeous…

_His voice breaks on the final word as his lips touch the hollow at the base of her throat._

YOUNG LYNLEY, CONT.  
How could I never have seen…?

YOUNG ADELE  
_(whispers)  
_Tell me this isn't a dream.

_He leans up to kiss her lightly on the lips._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(chuckling)  
_If it was a dream, I imagine things would've been a bit more graceful.  
_(hesitates a moment; somberly)  
_I'm sorry I hurt you.

_She shakes her head, raising a timorous hand to caress his cheek._

YOUNG ADELE  
It was perfect…you're perfect.  
_(quietly and with indelible significance; her voice does not waver)  
_I love you, Thomas.

_His eyes widen almost imperceptibly; he is more stunned than a playboy should be at hearing such a declaration in bed. After a few moments of staring wordlessly at one another, she looks away with a sad smile._

YOUNG ADELE  
_(apologetically)  
_It's okay; you don't have to say it back. I know you don't – don't feel that way about me…I just…wanted you to know.

_He draws an uneven breath while continuing to stare down at her with wide, troubled eyes._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Adele…

_She looks back at him, the sad smile still on her lips._

YOUNG ADELE_  
_Shh…

_She smoothes her fingertips across his lips, bringing her hand to cradle his cheek. He closes his eyes and, still breathing unevenly, turns to kiss her palm._

YOUNG ADELE, CONT.  
_(gently)  
_You've already given me more than I could've ever asked for.

_He stares down at her for a long, tense moment, then descends on her in a haze of fierce, frantic kisses, in between which he drags her dress off over her head – with her assistance – and runs his hands wildly over her bared skin in an almost desperate prelude to another coupling._

**INT. YOUNG LYNLEY'S ROOM – LATE MORNING.**

_YOUNG LYNLEY and YOUNG ADELE, having successfully got out of their clothes and under the blankets at some point during the night, are lying in each other's arms. YOUNG ADELE, still asleep, lies with her cheek on YOUNG LYNLEY's chest; he strokes her hair with one hand as he cradles her to him with his free arm. It is about half-eleven, and there is a fair bit of cheery sunshine peering between the curtains._

_YOUNG ADELE stirs faintly, and YOUNG LYNLEY leans up a little to kiss her forehead._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(softly)  
_Good morning, darling.

_She slowly opens her eyes and shifts to look up at him, then smiles adorably and touches the light stubble of beard on his chin._

YOUNG ADELE  
_(reflectively)  
_Not a dream, then?

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(grins)  
_No dream.

_She glances from the bright window to the clock on the nightstand and sits up with a start._

YOUNG ADELE  
_(with actual concern)  
_Half-eleven? Dad'll be furious…!

_She trails off as she looks back at YOUNG LYNLEY – the tousled, presumably naked, utterly gorgeous young man in whose arms she's still being held._

YOUNG ADELE, CONT.  
_(with uncharacteristic nonchalance)  
_Oh well.

_He chuckles and pulls her down to him for a long, affectionate kiss._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Much as I share your sentiments, darling, we really should get you back home before your dad sets the police after me.

_He leans over her to retrieve her dress, which ended up in a heap on the floor beside the bed._

YOUNG LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(courteously)  
_If you please.

_He is, however, still lying halfway on top of her, so there is quite a bit more kissing and caressing and entwining of limbs before she finally wriggles back into the garment, with his assistance. She then slips out of bed, picks up his discarded heap of clothes and tosses it to him._

YOUNG ADELE  
_(teasingly)  
_I'm not suffering alone.

_He gives a mock groan and begins struggling back into his clothing; she grins at him and walks around the room a bit, peering at the books, closet, desk, etc. Sitting on the desk is a loose snapshot of YOUNG LYNLEY with YOUNG HELEN CLYDE, whom YOUNG ADELE does not at once recognize; curious in spite of herself, she picks it up._

YOUNG LYNLEY, O.S.  
Helen Clyde – you've seen her before, I think.

_She turns the picture over; the back reads: "To Tommy, XX Helen."_

YOUNG ADELE  
Your girlfriend?

_He comes up beside her, dressed but with his shirt still unbuttoned and open. _

YOUNG LYNLEY  
No – just a friend.

_She sets down the photo and turns toward him, pulling the shirt closed as though to button it, then stops, thinking better of it, and pushes the edges back again, kissing the base of his throat and smoothing her hands over his bare chest. He sighs and wraps his arms around her tightly; she presses her cheek to his collarbone and curls her arms around his waist beneath his shirt. They hold each other for a long exquisite moment._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(uneasily)  
_Adele, darling…there is someone…

_She draws back a little to look up at him._

YOUNG LYNLEY, CONT.  
That is…I do have –

YOUNG ADELE  
_(too quickly)  
_A girlfriend, I know.

_She slides her arms out from beneath his shirt and walks a short ways away, turning her back to him and folding her arms tightly across her chest._

YOUNG ADELE, CONT.  
_(bitterly)  
_Don't worry; I won't tell, and I don't think anyone saw us last night – or if they did, they'd never believe it was me with you.

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Adele –

YOUNG ADELE  
_(her words are strong but she is clearly biting her lips against the tears)  
_It's okay – I figured. I'm a big girl, Thomas – you're an attractive man. It only makes sense –

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(perfectly aware of what she's hiding)  
_Adele, you've got such a life ahead of you. You're a beautiful woman, a brilliant artist, just starting university. Who knows what will happen, who you'll meet?

_YOUNG ADELE, her back still to him, brings a hand to her mouth to cover a sob._

YOUNG LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(sighs, not unkindly)  
_Adele, even if I were free, I'm leaving Oxford in less than a month –

YOUNG ADELE  
_(coldly)  
_Do you really think that would make a difference?

_He comes up behind her to rest a hand on her shoulder._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Adele –

_She shrugs off his touch and moves away._

YOUNG ADELE  
I have to go. Dad'll be worried.

_He catches her by the shoulders and turns her to face him._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Let me walk you home.

YOUNG ADELE  
_(almost a whimper)  
_No.

_She twists against his hold, trying to free herself, but he pulls her to him and kisses her fiercely. YOUNG ADELE's resistance promptly vanishes; her hands go at once to his face and then his hair as she kisses him back with a keen edge of desperation. Their kissing lasts an eternal span of breathless moments with a great deal of raking fingers through one another's hair and last frantic caresses. YOUNG LYNLEY's hands move down YOUNG ADELE's back to her hips and her legs curve around his; they are a heartbeat from tearing at each other's clothing when YOUNG ADELE pulls away with a cry. There are no tears on her face but her eyes are very bright. _

YOUNG ADELE  
_(whispers)  
_I love you, Thomas.

_She hurries out of the room._

**INT. THE TANGLED HARE – LATE MORNING.**

_YOUNG ADELE shoves open the rear door of the pub and hurries up the stairs to the flat. CRAWFORD comes out of the kitchen to the base of the stairs to address her._

CRAWFORD  
Back then, Del?

_She glances back at him but does not turn._

YOUNG ADELE  
Yeah, it got late – I stayed over at Sophie's.

CRAWFORD  
_(smiling and wondering why she's not)  
_You have a good time, then?

YOUNG ADELE  
_(ironically)  
_The time of my life.

_She continues up the stairs._

YOUNG ADELE, CONT.  
I'll be in my room.

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. YOUNG ADELE'S BEDROOM – LATE MORNING.**

_YOUNG ADELE is curled in a small ball on her bed, sobbing her heart out. In her arms is the sweater that YOUNG LYNLEY borrowed from her father in the first flashback._

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. YOUNG ADELE'S BEDROOM – AFTERNOON.  
****LATE SUMMER, 1984.**

_YOUNG ADELE is packing her things for university. She pauses in the midst of putting clothes in a suitcase and brings a hand to her abdomen. She glances down – there is little evidence of her pregnancy as yet – draws a long shallow breath and continues packing._

**INT. OXFORD. THE RUSKIN SCHOOL OF DRAWING AND FINE ART. A CORRIDOR – AFTERNOON.  
****AUTUMN, 1984.**

_YOUNG ADELE, looking not at all well, is shoving a sketchpad into her rucksack when YOUNG FINNEGAN, looking a bit more studious in his Oxford daily wear, approaches around a corner._

YOUNG FINNEGAN  
Del? Del, Edenton wanted to speak with you regarding –

YOUNG ADELE  
Please leave me alone.

_She shoulders her rucksack and begins walking away hastily; YOUNG FINNEGAN follows._

YOUNG FINNEGAN  
Del, please. I know I'm not your favorite person in the world –

YOUNG ADELE  
_(over her shoulder)  
_Kip, I really haven't the time for this.

YOUNG FINNEGAN  
But I thought maybe –

_He breaks off as YOUNG ADELE ducks around the corner into a smaller, darker corridor and sinks against the wall (as best she can in the rucksack), curling her arms about her abdomen._

YOUNG ADELE  
_(quietly, with uncharacteristic vulnerability)  
_I'm pregnant, Kip.

YOUNG FINNEGAN  
_(with unexpected gentleness)  
_I know.

_She looks up at him in surprise. Her condition is not yet so advanced that the average bystander would notice._

YOUNG FINNEGAN  
Maybe I can help.

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT – EVENING.  
****CHRISTMAS, 1984.**

_The living room is decorated with a pathetically threadbare tree and a few streamers. YOUNG ADELE, now six months along and visibly very pregnant, is in her room, throwing her things about as though packing or unpacking while CRAWFORD stands glowering in her doorway._

CRAWFORD  
_(darkly)  
_Who was it?

_She does not look up at him._

YOUNG ADELE  
It doesn't matter.

CRAWFORD  
Like hell it don't.

_He gives her a calculating look._

CRAWFORD, CONT.  
It was Lynley, weren't it? That night you went to the club –

_YOUNG ADELE glances up quickly, almost like an animal scenting danger._

YOUNG ADELE  
It was Kip, all right? Kip Finnegan.

CRAWFORD  
_(with broad disbelief)  
_Kip Finnegan? Y' never gave that skulking brute a second look; y' sure as hell din't sleep with him.

YOUNG ADELE  
Maybe I did and maybe I didn't. It doesn't require sleeping, you know.

_She turns back to her packing._

YOUNG ADELE, CONT.  
Or, for that matter, second looks.

CRAWFORD  
_(watching her, as a realization)  
_It _was _Lynley.

YOUNG ADELE  
(_looking up in barely veiled panic)  
_No, Dad –

CRAWFORD  
_(with conviction)  
_Y' stayed with him that night, din't you?

_She stares back at him in mute admission, and he throws up his hands in a gesture of disgust._

CRAWFORD, CONT.  
Well, that's brilliant. And o' course he won't marry you.

YOUNG ADELE  
Marry me?  
_(resigned, without bitterness)  
_He wouldn't even go out with me.

CRAWFORD  
Does he know – 'bout the baby?

YOUNG ADELE  
Of course not. I haven't seen him since that night.

_He rubs his hands together gleefully, not unlike a cartoon villain._

CRAWFORD  
His mum'll pay anything to keep word from gettin' out.  
_(thoughtfully)  
_S'pose we oughta try her first?

YOUNG ADELE  
What are you talking about?

CRAWFORD  
_(almost cheerfully)  
_A little healthy blackmail, love. It's the done thing when gentry get an inconvenient girl with child.

YOUNG ADELE  
(_retaliating with unanticipated cold, terrifying fury)  
_You will not blackmail Thomas Lynley, nor his mother.

CRAWFORD  
_(his cheeriness vanishing)  
_Then what d'ya plan to do, y' stupid girl? Quit school and raise the brat?

YOUNG ADELE  
_(without hesitation)  
_Yes.

CRAWFORD  
_(turning furiously crimson)  
_What? And never a word of it to anybody?

YOUNG ADELE  
I won't ruin his life, Dad.

CRAWFORD  
'Course you won't! Might not even have to talk to him; just his lawyers –

YOUNG ADELE  
_(unwavering)  
_I won't.

CRAWFORD  
Then I will. All you'll have to do is stand there with the newborn lordling and say –

YOUNG ADELE  
_(angrily)  
_Never. I'd swear before judge and jury that the baby was Kip's – or yours – or anyone's! – before I'd expose Thomas to that kind of humiliation.

CRAWFORD  
Del, the man's ruined your life! You're givin' up a place at college that some would kill for, not to mention any hope of a decent living in art, and then there's the hell of birthin' and poverty –

YOUNG ADELE  
(_the words fall out before she can stop them)  
_I love him.

_Her words knock the wind out of him; he stares back at her in disbelief._

CRAWFORD  
What?

_Although the declaration was unintentional, she stands resolved, closing her suitcase and looking up decisively._

YOUNG ADELE  
I love him, Dad. I don't care if he never loves me or never thinks of me again or never thought of me to begin with; this baby is a gift and I will raise it on my own, without you or the Finnegans or anyone.

_She shoulders her rucksack, picks up her suitcase and shoves past him out of the room, moving quickly through the flat._

CRAWFORD  
Where you goin'?

YOUNG ADELE  
_(coldly)  
_You really think I'd tell you?

_She pushes open the flat's front door and begins hauling her bag down the stairs._

CRAWFORD  
_(shouting after her)  
_Don't you walk out of here! You walk out, Del, you don't come back!

_Seeing that this threat isn't evoking the desired response, he storms downstairs after her._

CRAWFORD  
Del! You'd really choose the memory of someone who never loved you – over your father, who's sacrificed every bleedin' comfort for your sake?

_She turns suddenly to face him at the foot of the steps._

YOUNG ADELE  
I already have.

_She opens the pub's rear door and walks determinedly out of his life._

**(END FLASHBACK)**


	10. Taking the Night Off

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. ADELE'S ROOM – EVENING.  
****PRESENT DAY.**

_ADELE, having long ago abandoned her hairstyle, is staring down at a picture in her hand: a slightly worn-about-the-edges Polaroid photo of YOUNG LYNLEY with an arm around YOUNG ADELE, somewhere in The Zodiac, both genuinely smiling.__ The color in ADELE's cheeks is high and there is a brightness of unshed tears in her eyes; her breathing is shallow and irregular – a clear indicator of her resistance against breaking down in tears._

_Her mobile, resting just beside her hand, rings suddenly. She looks at it for a long moment while she attempts to slow her breathing, then she gingerly picks it up and answers._

ADELE  
Hello?

LYNLEY, O.S.  
Adele? This is Thomas Lynley.

_ADELE closes her eyes against a sudden influx of emotion._

ADELE  
_(with supreme calmness)  
_Hello, Thomas.

**CUT to INT. LYNLEY'S CAR – EVENING.**

_LYNLEY is driving down a lamp-lit street. The vehicle's interior is dark, but even in the reflected headlights of other vehicles it is clear that he's spruced up for the occasion; his hair is artfully tousled and, in moments of shadow, he looks a great deal like YOUNG LYNLEY._

LYNLEY  
_(cheerfully)  
_As promised – I'm calling for the address where you're staying tonight.

**CUT to INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE – ADELE'S ROOM – EVENING.**

ADELE  
_(infinitely more collected than a moment ago)  
_Right, of course. I'm at Gables Guest House – a bit out of the way, I'm afraid, owing to budget restrictions –

LYNLEY, O.S.  
_(pleasantly)  
_Not at all. Gables, you say?

ADELE  
Address is 6 Cumnor Hill –

_She picks up a sheet of handwritten directions and endeavors to translate._

ADELE  
You take…erm…Botley Road – that's the A420 – west, crossing the A34. Botley turns into West Way, then into Cumnor Hill, so…it should be a fairly straight shot.  
_(self-deprecating chuckle)  
_Katie drove me over just a bit ago, so I apologize if I've twisted things about somewhat.

**CUT to INT. LYNLEY'S CAR – EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
_(smiling)  
_It sounds rather straightforward to me.

**CUT to INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. ADELE'S BEDROOM – EVENING.**

LYNLEY, O.S.  
I'll see you shortly.

ADELE  
All right.

_She closes her phone and sets it back on the dresser, pausing with her face bowed slightly and her eyes closed – clearly, she was not as collected as she pretended. After a moment or two she goes to the en suite bath and splashes her face at the small sink, then dabs at her cheeks with a towel._

_There is a soft knock at the door. ADELE looks up in surprise._

THOMAS, O.S.  
_(slightly muffled by the wood)  
_Just me, Mum.

ADELE  
_(in a slight panic)  
_I'll be there in a tic.

_She crosses back to the dresser and quickly slips the photo of YOUNG LYNLEY and YOUNG ADELE into her handbag, itself resting on the dresser, just beneath the mirror, then she crosses to unlock the door. __THOMAS CRAWFORD__ comes in, carton of chips in hand, and gives the room a swift glance-over._

THOMAS  
_(playfully)  
_Well, Miss Crawford; nice place you've got h…

_He trails off in puzzlement at the sight of his mother in her very elegant (and clearly costly) apparel._

THOMAS  
Erm…you're looking rather lovely.

_ADELE breathes a marked sigh of relief, oblivious in that moment to his confusion._

ADELE  
You think so?

_She rummages through her handbag for a scissors to cut the tags off her dress._

ADELE, CONT.  
Cost a week's rent – I wasn't sure –

THOMAS  
_(realizing)  
_That's the dress you bought from Katie this afternoon?

_She tosses the tags in the bin and looks up at him with a tremulous smile, toying nervously with the fabric of the skirt._

ADELE  
Yeah – do you think it'll do?

THOMAS  
_(utterly lost)  
_Um…what's the occasion?

ADELE  
_(her smile broadens – more happy than anxious now)  
_Inspector Lynley asked me to dinner tonight.

THOMAS  
_(with no small surprise)  
_Inspector Lynley?  
_(frowns)  
_You do know he's married, Mum?

_There is a sudden flash of pain in her eyes, quickly veiled by a cheeky smile._

ADELE  
For heaven's sake, Tommy; it's not a date, just dinner. We knew each other ages ago; he used to come into your granddad's pub.

THOMAS  
So I heard.

ADELE  
_(with real concern)  
_What, he told you?

THOMAS  
Sergeant Havers was talking with him about it. I…um…asked if he knew my dad.

_ADELE turns white, though THOMAS doesn't notice, looking pointedly elsewhere as he is for his own transgression in seeking answers about his past from others._

ADELE  
_(with forced calmness)  
_And…did he?

THOMAS  
_(with the air of one who knows his search is futile)  
_'Course not. But he said I'd be a credit to whoever it was.

_He settles on the bed and begins eating chips, holding the carton out now and again for ADELE to take a few._

THOMAS  
_(noncommittal)  
_Anyway – nice of him to invite you out.

ADELE  
He's a good man, Tommy.

THOMAS  
_(still unconvinced)  
_Yeah, I know…

ADELE  
_(perfectly aware of the thread of unease in his voice, she responds accordingly)  
_I'll be perfectly fine, sweetheart. Shall I ring you when I get in tonight?

THOMAS  
Nah, have your fun. I'm just – a little worried, after what happened to Davey.

ADELE  
_(reassuring smile)  
_Well, I couldn't be in better hands. How'd it go today, by the way?  
_(hopefully)  
_Any breakthroughs?

_THOMAS sighs and sets aside the chip carton.  
_THOMAS  
_(directly, albeit a bit sadly)  
_You really want to know?

ADELE  
_(similarly)  
_Yeah…  
_(lightly)  
_Better now than over dinner with the Inspector, right?

_THOMAS drags a hand over his face in what could be pain, frustration, or both._

THOMAS  
We're holding Steven Lundy on suspicion overnight.

ADELE  
_(echoes in stunned disbelief)  
_Steven Lundy? He would never –

THOMAS  
_(wearily)  
_I like him too, Mum, but the evidence is pretty damning.

ADELE  
_(going gray)  
_What sort of evidence?

_His lips twist bitterly at the admission._

THOMAS  
Davey's blood on his coveralls, dumped in a bin down the road from the Galleria.

ADELE  
Oh my God…

_She brings a hand to her mouth, her breathing rapid and panicked; THOMAS promptly intervenes and stands to pull her into his arms._

THOMAS  
Come 'ere.

_He holds her for several long moments._

THOMAS, CONT.  
_(fervently)  
_I've never in my life been so glad for that deadbolt on your door.

_She nods against him with a muffled affirmation, her breath still coming quickly and shallow, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head._

THOMAS, CONT.  
I'm heading back to the station to see if I can dig up some other leads, but…most likely, they're gonna charge him tomorrow.

_She draws back to look up at him._

ADELE  
_(still shaken, though the sadness at LUNDY's betrayal is creeping into her voice)  
_Steven Lundy…Tommy, he was in the gallery yesterday afternoon, helping Davey and Alaina with the decorations…

THOMAS  
I know, Mum.

_He leans in to kiss her forehead._

THOMAS  
And I hope to God there's some other explanation behind the bl –  
_(quickly euphemizes what he was going to say)  
_the evidence – but in the meantime, I'm _beyond_ glad that we've got him in custody.

ADELE  
_(nods shakily)  
_Me too, love.

_She blinks, and a lone tear flickers onto her cheek._

THOMAS  
_(gently)  
_Here now, what's this?

_He daubs away the tear with a fingertip._

THOMAS, CONT.  
_(lightly)  
_Can't go spoiling your make-up; you've got dinner with an earl tonight.

ADELE  
_(quickly)  
_Tommy, about that – about Inspector Lynley…

_For a split-second it seems she's about to tell him everything – then he unwittingly breaks in with a reassurance:_

THOMAS  
You don't have to explain anything, Mum.  
_(teasing)  
_Since when has your behavior ever _not_ been above reproach? Anyway, I like DI Lynley.

ADELE  
_(smiling, in spite of herself)  
_Really?

THOMAS  
_(grins back)  
_Really. And I'd hate to disappoint him by making you late for dinner, so: I think this is my cue to eat the rest of the chips while you finish getting ready.

ADELE  
_(with a long-suffering air)  
_I am _so_ getting the short end of this bargain.

THOMAS  
_(with mock-affrontery)  
_Oh, please: dinner in some posh brasserie with a peer? I'm just trying not to spoil your appetite.

_She snatches a pillow off the bed and heartily thwacks him with it, both of them laughing._

**INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. FOYER – EVENING.**

_LYNLEY walks in and takes off his coat, looking searingly attractive and about ten years younger than he did at the station. His hair is tousled and boyish and he's wearing a patterned black oxford, open at the neck, with corresponding black trousers. In this more youthful apparel he looks not unlike YOUNG LYNLEY from the Zodiac flashback – confident and cripplingly gorgeous._ _He rings at the desk and the RECEPTIONIST emerges from a doorway behind the counter._

RECEPTIONIST  
What can I do for you, sir?

LYNLEY  
I'm here to pick up Adele Crawford. She'll be expecting me – ah, Thomas is the name.

_He catches himself just short of giving his full name, belatedly recalling the conventions._

RECEPTIONIST  
_(amused)  
_Another Thomas? She just had one twenty minutes ago, chips in hand.

LYNLEY  
_(smiles)  
_Yes, that would be her son.

RECEPTIONIST  
_(smiling in return)  
_I'll tell her you've arrived, sir.

LYNLEY  
I'd be much obliged.

_The RECEPTIONIST disappears up the stairs. LYNLEY begins turning away from the desk when he spies and picks up a brochure with the image of a painting and the text:_

_Adele Elizabeth Crawford  
__Modern Pre-Raphaelite: An Art Exhibition  
__30 November – 6 January  
__Gilchrist's Galleria_

_With a small smile and frank curiosity, he settles in a chair and opens the brochure and –_

**CUT to INT. THE TANGLED HARE. TAPROOM – EVENING.  
****CHRISTMAS 1984 (FLASHBACK)**

_YOUNG LYNLEY, looking handsome as ever and quite worldly-wise after only months out of university, walks in, untying his scarf, and addresses EMILY, the waitress._

YOUNG LYNLEY  
Excuse me; I'm looking for Adele Crawford. Can you tell me – ?

_She promptly drags him into a corner by his coat._

EMILY  
_(in a low voice)  
_You don't want to come 'round askin' about her, sir – erm, my lord. She and her dad had a blazing row a couple nights back; ended with her dragging out her suitcase and leaving, not ten minutes after she'd come home.

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(puzzled)  
_Adele fought with her dad? Over what?

EMILY  
A lad – so far as I've heard. I wasn't here but…  
_(hesitates)  
_Listen, we were sort of friends, and I know some of her mates from uni. I could probably find out her address if you want.

YOUNG LYNLEY  
_(considers)  
_I…no. No need. Thank you.

_He turns and leaves the pub._

**(END FLASHBACK)**

******CUT to INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. FOYER – EVENING.  
****PRESENT DAY.**

_LYNLEY is still sitting in the armchair, lost in that memory, as ADELE and THOMAS approach. ADELE's hair is loosely pinned up in an intricate cluster of curls, though a few strategic curls have been left to fall free at her temples and the nape of her neck. This hairstyle, coupled with the exquisite dress, renders her an absolute goddess._

THOMAS  
_(lightly)  
_Still mulling over the case, sir?

_LYNLEY looks up at them in surprise._

THOMAS, CONT.  
As I recall, you've the night off for dinner with a certain lady.

_ADELE gives LYNLEY a shy, irrepressible smile._

ADELE  
Hello, Thomas.

_LYNLEY takes in her appearance in a slow, lingering gaze and draws a shallow breath._

LYNLEY  
_(unevenly)  
_And I thought you were lovely in a tracksuit.

_THOMAS shoots his mother a glance at this but ADELE is too caught up in LYNLEY's admiration to notice._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Forgive me – shall we go?

ADELE  
Yes, thank you. Tom –

_She kisses her son quickly on the cheek._

ADELE, CONT.  
Go home, get some sleep.  
_(mouths the words)  
__I'll be fine!_

**INT. POLICE STATION – EVENING.**

_THOMAS CRAWFORD walks in to see HAVERS sitting at MCALLISTER's desk, purposefully making notations in the omnipresent notebook. Her hair is mussed (from running frustrated hands through it) and her chin rests on her free hand._

THOMAS  
Sergeant? What're you still doing here?

HAVERS  
Hey, just because my boss takes the night off doesn't mean I get to. What's your excuse?

THOMAS  
Same as yours, I imagine.

HAVERS  
_(abrupt realization)  
_Oh right.

THOMAS  
Look, the last time my mum went out for the evening with someone other than me was probably ten years ago.

HAVERS  
What about her dinner with Davey?

THOMAS  
_(smugly)  
_She met me afterwards – doesn't count.

HAVERS  
_(grins)  
_All right, then.

THOMAS  
Can I persuade you to join me for dinner, Sergeant?

HAVERS  
Only if it's takeaway!

_At his crestfallen look, she gestures pointedly at the omnipresent notebook and the papers surrounding._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Lynley's gonna expect me to have this whole case cut and dried by morning.

THOMAS  
_(good-naturedly persisting)  
_Ah, come on. You need a bit of a break.  
_(impishly)  
_You can even bring your notebook if you like. I promise not to be a third wheel.

_HAVERS stands up and pointedly smacks him upside the head with the object in question._

HAVERS  
I'll have you know, cartin' one of these is an integral part of being a Detective Sergeant. They even have a special ceremony for handing 'em out.

THOMAS  
_(without skipping a beat)  
_So is that a yes to dinner?

_HAVERS groans theatrically._

THOMAS, CONT.  
C'mon, Sergeant. You know you stand a much better chance of cracking the case by morning if I'm along to help.

_He grins._

HAVERS  
_(sighs, bending before the logic of this argument)  
_Right. I'll get my coat.  
_(warningly)  
_No chips this time?

THOMAS  
_(defensively)  
_Chips are a staple food group, Sergeant – and anyway, I had chips for tea.

_He gives another - were it possible, cheekier - grin._

**INT. THE WILLIAM MORRIS PUB. TAPROOM – EVENING.**

_HAVERS and THOMAS are sitting companionably in the local Wetherspoon's finishing some combination of entrees for £7.19 (bangers & mash and cottage pie, mayhap – chips are indeed conspicuously absent). In and amongst bites, HAVERS steals glances down at the omnipresent notebook._

THOMAS  
So…how'd it go with Lundy?

HAVERS  
_(shoots him a look)  
_You don't believe he's capable any more than I do.

THOMAS  
I don't know; considering the chain of evidence…  
_(at her sustained look he capitulates)  
_Okay, no, I don't – so we need other options. Tell me about this key theory.

HAVERS  
(_taking a sip from her pint)  
_Well, it would've made for an easy route for the killer – no breaking and entering involved – and seeing as we've found no signs of a forced entry…

_She glances briefly down at the omnipresent notebook and flips through a few pages._

HAVERS  
Finnegan was issued keys to the gallery's front and back doors that he turned in when he took his exhibit over to Modern Art. Supposedly, those – plus the one to the flat – are the keys Gilchrist gave your mum. Not to mention, Finnegan's got an alibi for the time of the murder.

_She winces and looks intently down at the page._

THOMAS  
_(conceding the point)  
_You can say it, Sergeant. I know Mum's alibi's not the greatest.

HAVERS  
_(looking up at him; defensively)  
_Well, whose is, at two o'clock in the morning? I mean, even Finnegan could've snuck out of the flat for an hour while Katie was asleep, and no one the wiser. Anyway, I don't buy it. Your mum's a respectable artist, and she had too much riding on the show to blow it away on Gilchrist's murder, for publicity or otherwise.

THOMAS  
_(genuinely; clearly, suspicion of his mother is a fear he's harbored from the beginning)  
_Thank you, Sergeant.

HAVERS  
_(still in her tirade)  
_Don't thank me; I'm doing my job. I don't care if the palette knife in Davey Gilchrist's heart has her prints all over it; Adele is not a viable suspect in this case.

THOMAS  
_(looking ready to cry with relief)  
_Can I…just…kiss you right now?

HAVERS  
_(bantering back)  
_You help me find who really killed Davey Gilchrist and I'll snog you myself.

THOMAS  
_(cracking a grin)  
_Fair enough. Back to the keys: our suspect in custody –

HAVERS  
Steven Lundy, the janitor and our prime suspect, has a key to both entrances to the gallery. He's also got Gilchrist's blood all over the front of his coveralls, but he denies any involvement.

THOMAS  
His alibi?

HAVERS  
Thin at best. According to a couple of uni kids in the house next door, Lundy came home about half-eleven, gave 'em a shout to keep the music down, and went into his house. No one remembers seeing him after, but judging from McAllister's account, the alcohol was flowing rather freely last night. That leaves Gilchrist with a key, but he didn't stab _himself_ six times with a palette knife –

THOMAS  
_(frowning)  
_What if someone made a copy of the key?

HAVERS  
Or borrowed it? Lundy suggested that as well. Who would have been in close contact with Finnegan, Lundy, Gilchrist or Adele who could have – ?

THOMAS  
_(with an expression of mild embarrassment at having to mention this)  
_Sergeant, you do realize…?

HAVERS  
_(obviously)  
_Yeah, I know you have a key – DI Lynley mentioned it this afternoon. It's recorded in Gilchrist's ledger –  
_(thoughtfully)  
_- though, from what I understand, he was a bit stingy about handin' 'em out. You want to elaborate?

THOMAS  
_(shrugs)  
_When Mum first heard told me about the flat, I had – misgivings. The Galleria has standard locks on the front and rear doors, but no alarm system, no CCTV. Not that it's a high crime area or anything, but –

HAVERS  
_(agreeing)  
_Yeah, that kind of disregard for security is enough to discomfit anyone.

THOMAS  
We negotiated Davey into installing a deadbolt on the flat before Mum moved in, but he was reluctant to take further measures straightaway – you probably saw from his books that his finances were a little thin at the moment – so I requested my own keys to the flat. Davey wasn't thrilled – I don't think he liked the idea of Mum in any other man's company – but I think he saw the logic. I was practically a second tenant, being over there so much, and considering the lack of security on the building, I think he liked having a copper around.

HAVERS  
So you have keys to the flat and the gallery?

THOMAS  
Yeah – well, the flat and the rear door to the gallery, the one closest to the flat. Here.

_He pauses to retrieve the keys from his trouser pocket, only to exclaim a moment later:_

THOMAS, CONT.  
_(with genuine concern_)  
Bloody hell.

HAVERS  
What is it?

THOMAS  
_(in a tone of barely controlled panic)  
_My keys are gone.  
_(frantically, before HAVERS can say anything, skeptical or otherwise)  
_Yeah, I can already hear you thinking: "That's convenient." I had them last night when I saw Mum back in; I locked her flat when I left…

_He falls silent for a tense moment, during which HAVERS endeavors to calm him._

HAVERS  
Take a breath, Constable. They're probably in the car –

THOMAS  
_(interrupting her, suddenly professional and sounding not unlike LYNLEY)  
_Take me back to the station, would you, Sergeant? I want to be sure I didn't leave 'em there, and if I didn't…Well, then I think you'll be needing to document our subsequent conversation.

HAVERS  
Constable, you have an alibi for the time of the murder.

THOMAS  
_(concern begins to crack through his façade of calm)  
_I know. I didn't kill Davey, Sergeant.

HAVERS  
I know.

_There is no irony in her expression or her voice; she is as convicted of his innocence as she is of ADELE's._

THOMAS  
_(unevenly)  
_But if my – carelessness – somehow enabled someone else to do it, well, that makes me an accessory at the very least, right?

_HAVERS sets a hand on his on the table._

HAVERS  
The little I know of you, Constable, there's no way in hell you'd ever do anything, consciously or otherwise, that might endanger your mum.

THOMAS  
(_with a thin smile)  
_I hope you're right.

_He gets up and pulls on his coat, and she follows suit._


	11. Dinner with an Earl

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. QUOD RESTAURANT – DINING ROOM – EVENING.**

_LYNLEY and ADELE are chatting comfortably over a vast and expensive dinner, looking every inch the perfect posh couple. ADELE glances pointedly at LYNLEY's left hand, resting on the table and still bearing a wedding ring._

ADELE  
_(gently teasing)  
_Tell me: what does your wife think of you buying expensive dinners for strange female artists?

LYNLEY  
Actually, Helen and I haven't spoken for some time.

ADELE  
Helen Clyde?

_He nods._

ADELE, CONT.  
_(genuinely)  
_I'm sorry, Thomas.

_He acknowledges her apology somehow in his expression before deflecting this line of conversation:_

LYNLEY  
Come, what about you? Did you ever marry?

_ADELE shakes her head_

LYNLEY, CONT.  
But you've got Tom…

_She holds his gaze evenly and he trails off, embarrassed, at the recollection that one doesn't need to be married to have a child._

LYNLEY  
I see.

_ADELE looks at him strangely, wondering for a moment if he actually _could_ know._

ADELE  
_Do_ you?

LYNLEY  
_(frowns)  
_I beg your pardon?

ADELE  
_(quickly)  
_Nothing. I, um, had Tom when I was at uni – or rather, shortly after I dropped out at Christmas.

LYNLEY  
Adele…  
_(genuinely sympathetic, an echo of her apology a moment ago)  
_I'm so sorry.

ADELE  
_(smiling brightly – perhaps slightly too much so)  
_Don't be. I was always a little free-spirited for the academic track, and raising Tom more than compensated for the loss. When he was six months old, I strapped him into a rucksack and went to Florence.

LYNLEY  
_(surprised and almost proud)  
_You made it to Italy after all?

_ADELE gives him a look, startled by his recollection from their one-night stand._

ADELE  
I did – or we did, rather. Most of Tom's first four years were spent there.

LYNLEY  
_(without irony)  
_That sounds terribly romantic.

ADELE  
_(laughs shortly)  
_Romantic? We arrived in Florence with enough for a return rail fare and two nights in a hostel.

_He raises his brows, truly intrigued now, and she smiles slightly as she continues:_

ADELE, CONT.  
I spent the first day begging for work in a place that wouldn't care two pins that I was always toting a baby – and the second in the Piazza del Duomo, hawking street portraits in a mishmash of expressions from my phrasebook. A week later I got a job as a waitress in a _trattoria_ with a staff flat above; Tom slept in the kitchen while I was serving and during the midday siesta we were out and about, tagging the tourist crowds and soliciting portraits.  
_(sighs reminiscently)  
_My days off were spent painting miniature cityscapes to sell in the street on days when the portrait trade was slow. By December we had enough for rail fare to Rome and a little besides, so we went south for the winter. My employer, Signora Giardana Bergamo –  
_(lilting a little in the pronunciation, smiling)  
_- had a cousin in Rome who ran a tiny hostel a stone's throw from the Spanish Steps, and it would be inexcusable if I did not spend my first Christmas in Italy at St. Peter's.

LYNLEY  
_(smiling)  
_Of course.

ADELE  
So, Christmas was gorgeous. I worked for Giardana's cousin Battista in the mornings, laundry and such, with Tom in a basket nearby, and the afternoons and evenings were free for exploration.

LYNLEY  
And street portraits?

ADELE  
_(smiling as she concedes)  
_And street portraits, though not so many with the festive season on. I quickly determined the free day to visit everything, or begged concessions if there wasn't one. After Christmas we followed the festival calendar to Venice – and didn't leave for two years.

LYNLEY  
Signora Bergamo must have been heartbroken.

_His remark is meant to be lightly teasing, but he is too entranced in her story and it comes across rather more somber._

ADELE  
Not terribly, thank God. For all she'd given me, I half-expected her to demand my firstborn.  
_(chuckles softly)  
_But then, everyone loved Tom. The housekeeper of our B&B – where I worked, that is – was more than happy to take a turn watching him, to give me a break, though it was rare that I could be persuaded to leave him alone, even for a few minutes.  
_(sighs)  
_Anyway, he was just past three when we left Venice, and it wasn't entirely too soon to think about what I was going to have to do when he started school. Not to mention, he'd grown energetic and a bit more troublesome to keep in a laundry hamper while I worked.

_She grins and LYNLEY attempts to do the same, but as he remains entranced by ADELE's tale, it registers as a sad smile._

ADELE, CONT.  
We returned to Giardana's for six months – six reasonably leisurely months, with more time for galleries and very few street portraits to speak of – and then we came back to England. We had –  
(_hesitates a moment before landing the right word)  
_Friends. People I trusted implicitly to help me sort out Tom's immediate future, when I was twenty-one and hadn't a clue about my own.

LYNLEY  
Twenty-one?

ADELE  
_(smiles, with no small irony)  
_Yes, as I recall, you had a few doubts about your future at that age too.

LYNLEY  
Yes, but I hadn't spent the previous three years in Italy raising a child.

ADELE  
_(blushing slightly)  
_Stop it. You make me sound like some kind of paragon, when really I was just a stupid kid with no clue of how to raise her own.

LYNLEY  
Well, I don't know…growing up in a trattoria doesn't sound so bad.

ADELE  
_(skeptically)  
_In a basket under the kitchen table?

LYNLEY  
_(amused)  
_I'm sorry, but you _do _make it sound rather romantic.

ADELE  
_(with a raised brow and frank disbelief)  
_Really? I think Tom was twelve before he realized you could make a meal that wasn't served on toast.

_LYNLEY laughs aloud, breaking the quiet spell of somberness._

LYNLEY  
Somehow I don't think that was a parental shortcoming exclusive to you, Adele. If I'd had a son as young as you did, he still wouldn't know how to get the beans out of the can.

_ADELE smiles but does not laugh, knowing the full story as she does._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(eager for more intrigue, he prompts her)  
_Come, what happened next? Where did you go?

ADELE  
_(fixing him with a direct look)  
_Reading.

LYNLEY  
Reading? Well, that is a bit of a disappointment.

ADELE  
Oh, shut it.

_She chuckles at his disconcerted expression._

ADELE, CONT.  
I was a uni dropout, twenty-one, with an almost four-year old, and the "friends" who were helping us out lived in Reading, all right?

LYNLEY  
_(curiously)  
_Reading's rather close to Oxford for someone who ran away from it.

ADELE  
_(carefully)  
_Yes, well, not everything about Oxford was bad.  
_(at his look – questioning and yet almost yearning – she adds impulsively)  
_Father Copley – one of the chaplains from Christ Church Cathedral.

_LYNLEY frowns in puzzlement._

ADELE, CONT.  
_(by way of explanation)  
_His sister Leticia lived in Reading. When I left Oxford that Christmas, I didn't have anywhere to go, so – he sent me to her. When we came back from Italy, it was only natural that we stay with her again. She was besotted with Tom – with both of us, really. She was 50 and unmarried when I had Tom; we were an instant family for her, and she was like…  
_(ponders a moment)  
_The perfect maiden aunt.  
_(laughs lightly)  
_All the care and affection of a grandmum, I suppose, but none of the prosing and expectations, 'sides minding your p's and q's and attending Evensong twice a week, in which Tom and I were only too happy to oblige her. Tom did his schooling in Reading, and we spent the holidays driving all over Britain, visiting galleries and staying in hostels.

LYNLEY  
_(mildly surprised)  
_What, no more glamorous working holidays?

ADELE  
_(shakes her head)  
_I tried – working in a B&B in Paris the summer after Tom turned eight – lure of the Louvre and all.

_LYNLEY smiles._

ADELE, CONT.  
It was too expensive by half. We let a flat for a month, which took all my savings, and Tom was stuck there most of the day. The mornings were early and I was exhausted most of the time, not to mention skint. For all that, we still enjoyed it, but – I couldn't do that to myself or Tom again. Not to mention…  
_(trails off, caught up in the sadness of the recollection)_

LYNLEY  
_(prompts gently)  
_Not to mention…?

ADELE  
There was uni to think of down the road – for Tom, I mean – and most of the time I was working in a shop with little enough to set aside, even with Leticia's generous hospitality.

LYNLEY  
_(stunned)  
_In a shop?

ADELE  
(_shrugs)  
_H&M, mostly, with the odd volunteer shift at the Tate, thanks to a glowing reference from Dr. Edenton.  
(_smiles)  
_Not a complete waste, those four months at the Ruskin – and of course, I was constantly painting once we'd settled back in Reading. Some of the paintings in this exhibition date back to then. I was still defining my style, of course, but –

LYNLEY  
"Rossetti with a dash of Waterhouse"?

ADELE  
_(regarding him directly, with no little surprise)  
_You remember?

LYNLEY  
_(smiles)  
_I thought there was something familiar about your paintings when I was at the gallery this morning, but I couldn't put my finger on it till now. You've certainly made good on that particular aspiration.

ADELE  
You really think so?

LYNLEY  
I do – if you trust the word of a police officer with a liberal arts education, mind.

_ADELE immediately recalls her disparaging remark about posh boys and liberal arts and winces, staring down at her plate._

ADELE  
That was terrible of me.

_LYNLEY sets a hand on hers, startling her into looking up._

LYNLEY  
_(gently)  
_No, it was astute. And rather what I needed at the time.

_Her smile softens and she lowers her face again, her fingers trembling slightly beneath his. He does not take his hand away._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(brightly)  
_Anyway – Oxford. Your idea or Tom's, to return to the place whose dust you'd wiped from your feet ages before?

_She looks up, a twisted smile on her lips._

ADELE  
Whose do you think?

LYNLEY  
_(guesses)  
_Tom's.

ADELE  
He was every mother's dream, growing up – clever, sweet, diligent about his studies – and an incredible artist.

LYNLEY  
An ability you fostered, no doubt?

ADELE  
_(shaking her head)  
_I encouraged him, yeah, but it really just sort of happened. I never sent him to classes or anything, just gave him paint and brushes to occupy him when I was working. He's a better portraiteur than I could ever be – McAllister even used him as a sketch artist now and again, back in the day – but his preferred style is abstract and vibrantly colorful, nothing like my pastel nymphs and shepherds.

LYNLEY  
_(sincerely)  
_Remarkable though they are.

ADELE  
(_smiling an acknowledgement of this)  
_He knew I'd gone to the Ruskin to study art – at least, until he came along. I guess he thought I might live vicariously through the experience if he managed to get in as well.

LYNLEY  
_(impressed)  
_Did he, then?

ADELE  
_(mock-admonishing)  
_You're getting ahead of the story.  
_(pauses a moment, barely suppressing a small smile before adding)  
_And yes, he did.

LYNLEY  
_(warmly)  
_That's incredible, Adele –  
_(with mock-submission)  
_- and much as I should like to inquire further, I shall forthwith be the soul of attentive silence.

_ADELE laughs._

ADELE  
So Tom wanted to go to uni; moreover he wanted to go where I'd gone, but even with minimal expenses, second and third jobs, small gifts of money from the Copleys and the occasional car boot sale, we couldn't save enough, and with no guarantee of scholarship funding, I knew I had to appeal to someone who had sufficient funds set aside for an Oxford education.

LYNLEY  
_(guessing)  
_Tom's dad?

_ADELE's expression is unreadable._

ADELE  
No – mine.

LYNLEY  
_(taken aback)  
_Yours? But –

ADELE  
_(darkly)  
_It wasn't a joyous realization. Tom was fifteen and already taking the train up once a week to visit the college and speak with recruiters, and we'd saved nowhere near enough. No matter how optimistic they were about scholarships and Tom's potential, I knew we needed a miracle.  
_(sighs)  
_The hardest thing I ever did was send him into that pub.

LYNLEY  
Alone?

ADELE  
_(bitterly)  
_It wouldn't have helped a bit having me there – trust me. Tom was gracious and unassuming, and I had a feeling Dad wouldn't turn away his grandson – he'd be too proud of the fact that I'd been forced to ask for his help.  
_(pauses a moment)  
_I also knew he'd want something in return.

LYNLEY  
_(concernedly)  
_What was that?

ADELE  
Tom, more or less.

LYNLEY  
What?

ADELE  
If Dad agreed to pay for Tom's education, Tom would move to Oxford and live with him, work in the pub and such, and I would not be welcome to visit him there. Tom hated that condition as much as I did and suggested that I move to Oxford on some of our savings and get a flat of my own. That way he had a haven from his granddad, whom he couldn't bring himself even to like, and I was closer to a proper art scene. I agreed, we thanked Leticia profusely, and moved the short distance north to Oxford. I got a microscopic flat, and Tom lived out of a rucksack in my old bedroom for months, refusing to make any gesture of "settling" into his granddad's flat.

_LYNLEY has been frowning and strangely unsettled through this last part of the conversation; now he asks:_

LYNLEY  
_(delicately)  
_Adele – forgive me, but: couldn't you have gone to Tom's dad for help?

ADELE  
No.

_The answer is automatic and rather fierce, and she immediately leaps to defend it, mortified and fumbling over her words._

ADELE, CONT.  
No, I…I hadn't seen him in years, since the night we…since that night. He had no obligation, to me or Tom –

LYNLEY  
_(interjecting with a trace of righteous anger)  
_He had every obligation.

ADELE  
_(pleading)  
_No, please, you don't understand. He had his own life – his own obligations –

LYNLEY  
_(growing increasingly frustrated)  
_Obligations that superseded his responsibility to you and his son? Adele, you should have been in Italy for, I don't know, a painting holiday or a traveling lecture series about your work – not working in a trattoria with your baby under the kitchen table.

ADELE  
I know, but –

LYNLEY  
_(vehemently continuing in his tirade)  
_And you should never have had to broker a deal with your horrible father simply so Tom could go to an institution where his abilities were in high demand!

ADELE  
_(calmly)  
_Thomas, whatever should or should not have been, I place no blame on Tom's father.

LYNLEY  
_(incredulous)  
_Why do you persist in defending him?

ADELE  
Because I love him.

_LYNLEY flinches – imperceptibly to ADELE but enough that the AUDIENCE notices._

ADELE, CONT.  
And we were just kids when it happened. I never told him about Tom; it would only have hurt him.

LYNLEY  
Maybe it hurt him not to know.

_It is ADELE's turn to flinch, only slightly more visibly than LYNLEY; castigated by her response, LYNLEY asks:_

LYNLEY  
_(quietly)  
_Why on earth are we arguing?

_She gives a wan smile and his fingers curl around hers, startling her with the realization that their hands are still touching._

LYNLEY  
You're one of the kindest, cleverest women I've ever known, Adele. Whatever your actions, you must have had everyone's best interests at heart.

_She draws a shallow breath and brushes her thumb against his fingers._

ADELE  
I'd like to think so…  
_(pauses a moment, collecting herself, and continues in a cheerier tone)  
_And anyway, unless I'm very much mistaken, we weren't arguing – you were getting righteously angry over my state of single motherhood.

LYNLEY  
As I said, you're a clever, gorgeous woman. That any man would –

ADELE  
_(teasing)  
_Gorgeous? I don't remember hearing that one before.

_He leans forward, his eyes strangely intense._

LYNLEY  
_(softly)  
_Then maybe you weren't listening.

_ADELE breaks eye contact with a sharp exhalation and finds something fascinating to look at it; LYNLEY clears his throat and they both speak at once._

ADELE  
_(raspily)  
_Right, so –

LYNLEY  
Anyway –  
_(there is an awkward pause before he continues)  
_Anyway, I was wondering: did you ever see Tom's dad again?

ADELE  
_(choosing her words carefully)  
_Not until very recently.

_She picks up her wine glass with her free hand and takes a sip, at last discovering a simple distractive prop. When she does not at once expound upon her statement, LYNLEY prompts:_

LYNLEY  
(_a trifle impatiently)  
_Well, what did he say? Was he pleased with Tom?

ADELE  
_(regarding him indirectly over her wine glass)  
_I think so.

_Her mobile rings, breaking the moment, and she sets the glass aside._

ADELE  
_(apologetically)  
_Sorry. I should take this; it's probably Tom.

_LYNLEY looses her hand and gestures for her to take the call; she produces the mobile from her purse, glances down at the incoming number, frowns, and answers._

ADELE  
Hello, this is Adele.

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

_She is answered by STEPHEN RUSHWOOD, an impeccably, expensively dressed man standing next to a black Jaguar._

RUSHWOOD  
Miss Crawford? Stephen Rushwood from the Tate. I apologize for ringing you directly, but I was unable to reach Davey Gilchrist. I've just arrived at the gallery and – it looks as though some sort of crime was committed…

**CUT to INT. QUOD RESTAURANT – DINING ROOM – EVENING.**

_ADELE is at once mortified and terrified upon learning her caller's identity, and LYNLEY is not oblivious to it._

ADELE  
_(fumbling for words in a breathless panic)  
_Yes, sir – er – Mr. Rushwood.

_LYNLEY looks up in surprise at mention of this name._

ADELE  
I'm afraid…I'm sorry; I had no way to contact you, and even then, we weren't sure – Davey said, but we didn't know…

_She trails off helplessly, closing her eyes before admitting the worst of it._

ADELE, CONT.  
I'm afraid Davey Gilchrist has been murdered.

RUSHWOOD, V.O  
Murdered?

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

RUSHWOOD  
_(genuinely appalled)  
_My God. What, here in the gallery?

**CUT to INT. QUOD RESTAURANT – DINING ROOM – EVENING.**

_ADELE looks on the verge of tears._

ADELE  
Yes, sir, I –

_LYNLEY promptly takes the mobile from her._

LYNLEY  
This is DI Lynley with the Metropolitan Police. Might I be of assistance, sir?

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

RUSHWOOD  
_(more contritely)  
_This is Stephen Rushwood from the Tate Britain. Begging your pardon, sir, I wasn't trying to interfere; I just came to the gallery as Gilchrist requested and –

**CUT to INT. QUOD RESTAURANT – DINING ROOM – EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
I see. Would you hold a moment, Mr. Rushwood?  
_(to ADELE)  
_Would you excuse me for a moment?

_She nods and he leaves the table for the foyer._

**CUT to INT. QUOD RESTAURANT. FOYER – EVENING.**

_LYNLEY continues to address RUSHWOOD on the mobile._

LYNLEY  
We were attempting to contact you all day, sir. As you can see, the police have it in hand. Our primary suspect is already in custody –

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

RUSHWOOD  
Yes, I understand that, sir, but we've a tight schedule to keep. Sorry as I am for the loss of Gilchrist –

**CUT to INT. QUOD RESTAURANT. FOYER – EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
_(in a rush)  
_Suppose we – suppose the Galleria, that is – were to open tomorrow night? Would you consider returning?

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

RUSHWOOD  
_(dubiously)  
_Are you suggesting you can have this matter settled inside of a day? I'll admit, your associates at the Met surprise me now and again, but –

**CUT to INT. QUOD RESTAURANT. FOYER – EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
Tomorrow night, same time and place. Will that serve, Mr. Rushwood?

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

RUSHWOOD  
I would've settled for a private showing, you know.

**CUT to INT. QUOD RESTAURANT. FOYER – EVENING.**

_LYNLEY gazes into the dining room, where ADELE is rather hopelessly contemplating her stemware._

LYNLEY  
Yes, but something tells me Miss Crawford would not.

_He ends the call and immediately enters a new number._

MCALLISTER, O.S.  
Hello?

LYNLEY  
Sergeant, this is DI Lynley. I need a favor…

**INT. QUOD RESTAURANT – DINING ROOM – EVENING.**

_ADELE looks up from her dishes, brightening a little, as LYNLEY returns and hands her the mobile._

ADELE  
Sorry for all this, Thomas. I didn't mean to turn into a watering pot on you; Rushwood just…I feel like he controls my future, and explaining to someone like that that Davey was murdered in the gallery –

LYNLEY  
_(with a small smile)  
_Don't worry, I think I managed to placate him – or at least, convinced him to retain interest in your exhibition till we've got this sorted.

ADELE  
_(visibly perking up)  
_Really?

LYNLEY  
No guarantees, mind –

ADELE  
But that's wonderful! Thank you, Thomas!

_She leans forward to kiss his cheek – an act of delighted gratitude, nothing more – then realizes a split-second later what she's done and jerks back into her seat, mortified at her behavior. LYNLEY, meanwhile, is staring at her, a little intensely, as caught off-guard by this behavior as she._

LYNLEY  
_(slightly breathless)  
_Yes, well…perhaps we should get you back to your B&B.

ADELE  
Of course.

_He gets up from the table and she follows suit, still slightly abashed._


	12. The Only Man She Ever Loved

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. POLICE STATION. INTERVIEW ROOM – NIGHT.**

_HAVERS is sitting opposite THOMAS at the table._

HAVERS  
You know, you don't have to do this.

THOMAS  
_(with conviction)  
_Yes, I do.

HAVERS  
_(sighs)  
_All right, then.

_She takes out the omnipresent notebook and turns it to a clean page._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Where were you last night, say, 'round midnight and after?

THOMAS  
_(thinks)  
_I left here at a reasonable time – half-five, or thereabouts – and went home to help Granddad at the pub. It's light work, mostly, pulling pints and clearing tables, and he says it pays my room and board. It was a quiet night with plenty of staff on, so Granddad let me go around eight; I went upstairs to paint for a bit. Mum called about ten o'clock, said she was out for dinner with Davey. They were waiting on pudding, apparently, and then he was gonna escort her home, only…She thought he had a bit more on his mind, if y'know what I mean.

HAVERS  
Yeah, so she said…You think Gilchrist could've –

THOMAS  
_(too quickly, as though he doesn't even want the thought to enter his mind)  
_I don't want to think that, but…well…He was a lech, and Mum's pretty. And, I mean, she's strong, but Davey's big – was big. He might've…  
_(trails off meaningfully)  
_Anyway, I was waiting outside the restaurant – Bar Meze, it was, a Turkish place – when they left. Mum and I made a big show about how we'd expected to see each other, like we'd planned it ages before. Davey took the hint and went his own way.

HAVERS  
Did you and Gilchrist get on?

THOMAS  
Generally, yeah, considering that we resented each other. He disliked me because I was more to Mum than he would ever be. He'd asked her on dates and things forever and was always put off because of me – she was doing something with me, had to meet me, whatever – but he could never really hate me, for the same reason: I was too important to Mum. And I…well, I never _hated_ him, but "strongly dislike" would fit…I knew he was a lech. I saw the way he watched her, and I hated – _really_ hated – that she needed him – or his gallery, rather – for her exhibition.

HAVERS  
Why did she? Need him, I mean. Her work is brilliant –

THOMAS  
_(reasonably)  
_And no one's ever heard a damn thing about her. Why book an unknown whose art will bring neither attention nor cash to the gallery?

HAVERS  
But Gilchrist didn't care about that?

THOMAS  
Davey's gallery is the bottom of the food chain for artists. Uni kids pile up their change for the rent and split the booking between them; it's that kind of place. Mum took the flat because she wanted to live near a gallery and the price was right, and booking the gallery was the practical next step. There's been a surprising bit of press interest, leastways around here, and supposedly Davey was in touch with a bloke called Rushwood from Tate Britain; he was meant to be coming up for the show.

HAVERS  
So I heard. Back to last night: what happened after you met your mum at Bar Meze?

THOMAS  
We went for chips – well, I went for chips, she went to be with me.  
_(smiles)  
_St. Algate's Kebabs – where you and I went today – is our establishment of choice; they make a wicked garlic sauce, and they're open till all odd hours – plus, they're halfway between Mum's flat and the station. We were there till around midnight, then we walked back to her flat. I saw her safely in, locked up and went home.

HAVERS  
Which would've been around…?

THOMAS  
_(thinks a moment)  
_One, maybe half-one, before I got in at Granddad's.

HAVERS  
Did you see anyone, coming or going from the area 'round the gallery?

THOMAS  
_(firmly)  
_No. Would've gone straight back in if I had.

HAVERS  
_(gives a small smile to concede this point)  
_Can anyone verify your whereabouts at those times?

THOMAS  
Yeah, Mum saw me off at one, and I said goodnight to Granddad somewhere between half-one and two. I went straight to bed from there, but you'd have to ask him for corroboration on that.  
_(crooked smile)  
_Which, if memory serves, you've done already.

HAVERS  
What about your keys?

THOMAS  
I had 'em when I left Mum's; I locked the flat and the rear door of the gallery behind me, even checked the front door to be certain it was locked.  
_(frustrated)  
_I can't imagine I would've dropped 'em on the way home, but I was exhausted…

HAVERS  
Exhausted enough to have forgotten to take them this morning?  
_(gently)  
_It could be as simple as that, y'know.

THOMAS  
No. I always put 'em on the nightstand when I get in and pick 'em up when I leave. They're keys to Mum's, so I like to be extra careful.

HAVERS  
And do you remember setting 'em down last night?

THOMAS  
_(shakes head to clear it)  
_I…think so, but…like I said, I was exhausted.

HAVERS  
Who knew you had keys to your mum's?

THOMAS  
_(thinks a moment)  
_Mum, Davey, Lundy, Kip and Katie, Granddad of course – he knew I was there at all hours, so how could I not have keys? As for the rest, it was never something that was discussed, but –

HAVERS  
But it was commonly known that you were at your mum's flat at all hours – so someone might've guessed you had a key to the gallery?

THOMAS  
I suppose so, but –

HAVERS  
_(asking for him)  
_Who would use that information for something like this?

**EXT. THE ZODIAC (NIGHTCLUB) – NIGHT.**

_There is much noise and light emanating from the garish façade of the nightclub as ADELE and LYNLEY walk up. LYNLEY pauses for a moment, reading the flyer for some band or other and –_

**CUT to INT. THE ZODIAC – NIGHT.  
****SUMMER, 1984 (FLASHBACK)**

_YOUNG LYNLEY (the flashback is from LYNLEY's perspective) passionately kisses YOUNG ADELE on the dance floor._

**(END FLASHBACK)**

**EXT. THE ZODIAC (NIGHTCLUB) - NIGHT.  
****PRESENT DAY.**

ADELE  
_(lightly, with a sprinkle of cheekiness)  
_You want to go in, then?

_LYNLEY snaps out of his reverie._

LYNLEY  
It's not exactly my sort of venue.

ADELE  
_(cheekier still)  
_These days, maybe. Once upon a time I had the impression that you came here rather often.

LYNLEY  
Yes, well, I couldn't dance then either. Not the sort of ridiculous gyrating that passes for –

_He glances from the flyers to ADELE's face, which is set in a grin._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Oh, come on.

_He catches her hand and, with a sort of soldier-facing-death mien, pulls her into the club._

**INT. THE ZODIAC – NIGHT.**

_The club is twice as loud and garish (the music of the moment is a club remix of Kylie Minogue's "Speakerphone") and packed with STUDENTS as it was 25 years ago. ADELE guides a somewhat shell-shocked LYNLEY up to the bar to order drinks._

LYNLEY  
My God, was it always this mad?

ADELE  
Worse. It's a weeknight, remember.

_The BARTENDER, a handsome blonde woman of about ADELE's age, slings a couple of bottles to a GIRL down the bar before turning brightly to ADELE and LYNLEY. She bursts into chatter, oblivious to the blaring music and screeching semi-dressed TEENS milling about._

BARTENDER  
Del! What the hell're you doin' here? Thought your show was openin' tonight.

ADELE  
_(shouting over the din)  
_Technical difficulties – had to postpone.

BARTENDER  
Sod it – you'll never get the Tate people in town again! Where's your gorgeous boy?

ADELE  
Working on a case.

BARTENDER  
Gave him the night off is more like – for a date.

_She throws a meaningful – and appreciative – glance at LYNLEY._

BARTENDER, CONT.  
Who's your bloke, then?

ADELE  
_(caught off-guard)  
_Oh, um…he's not my –

LYNLEY  
_(jumping in)  
_Thomas Lynley. Ah – from London.

BARTENDER  
_(crowing with astonishment)  
_Christ! Y' found a posh one!

_ADELE immediately finds other fascinating things to look at._

BARTENDER  
_(to LYNLEY)  
_You run a gallery there, then?

LYNLEY  
Not exactly, I –

ADELE  
He's a police inspector, come up to help Tom and the lads on a case.

BARTENDER  
_(slyly)  
_What's he doin' here, then?

_She grins at ADELE's resultant blush._

BARTENDER, CONT.  
All right, you two, what'll it be?

ADELE  
Um – Blue WKD. And – whatever he wants –

LYNLEY  
The same, I think – and I'll cover it.

BARTENDER  
That's five pound fifty then.

_LYNLEY hands her a ten-pound note; she winks at ADELE and walks away to the cooler._

ADELE  
_(appalled)  
_This was a stupid idea – we should go –

LYNLEY  
No.

_He catches her arm as she begins to walk away._

LYNLEY  
It's all right; she's only having a bit of fun.

_ADELE gives a half-hearted laugh but makes no verbal reply._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
You and Tom come here often, I take it?

ADELE  
Nah – once or twice a month, when we're bored beyond belief.  
_(with amusement)  
_We're a bit of an item, apparently.

LYNLEY  
_(teasing)  
_I should think his girlfriend would be jealous.

ADELE  
_(slightly startled by the misconception)  
_Oh. Tom hasn't got a girlfriend –

_The BARTENDER swoops in with the drinks at this opportune moment._

BARTENDER  
Y' can't imagine how long I've been waitin' to hear that.

ADELE  
_(lightly, with a small smile)  
_You leave my son alone, all right?

BARTENDER  
Whatever you say.

_She hands LYNLEY his change with a wink and promptly whisks down the other end of the bar to serve the next customers. ADELE looks back at LYNLEY with the smile still curving her lips._

LYNLEY  
Twice a month to a place like this and Tom hasn't got a girlfriend?

ADELE  
He can't be bothered, tell the truth, between work and helpin' his granddad – and goin' for chips with me. He and I are a little close for most girls' liking – and Tom'll never date a girl who doesn't like his mother.  
_(laughs softly at herself)  
_It sounds like a bad horror film, I s'pose, but we've only ever had each other.

LYNLEY  
_(regarding her seriously)  
_Tom's a very lucky young man. I'd take you over a flighty girlfriend any day.

ADELE  
_(looking away; softly, to herself)  
_No, you wouldn't.

_LYNLEY hears this, though it wasn't meant for him, and stares at her averted face for a long tense moment before turning back to the bar, taking a lengthy draft of his drink, and declaring:_

LYNLEY  
The hell with it. You want to dance, Adele?

_She turns back to him in surprise._

ADELE  
Um…

_She cocks her head to one side, considering the body-slamming techno tune currently blaring at them._

ADELE, CONT.  
Sure you're up to it?

_An irrepressible grin crosses her lips, making her incomparably more captivating than she was a moment ago._

ADELE  
All right, then.

_She takes a quick, albeit bracing, sip from her bottle before taking LYNLEY's hand and letting him pull her in and amongst the thrashing STUDENTS - at which point __the DJ has the good sense to switch over to a ballad. ADELE chuckles at this reprieve but only briefly, as LYNLEY's hands are suddenly, mysteriously at her waist, and she jumps a bit at the touch._

LYNLEY  
Forgive me, I –

_He begins to draw his hands away but she catches them at her waist – an instinctive reaction that surprises her to the core._

ADELE  
_(apologetically)  
_No, it's all right…  
_(trails off, a little breathlessly, and looks up at his face)  
_Sorry, um…it's been…a really long time.

LYNLEY  
_(quietly and intense, recalling 25 years ago)  
_I know.

ADELE  
_(blabbering on in her nervousness)  
_I mean, I haven't danced with anyone but Tom in ages; I'm not used to –

_LYNLEY leans in and kisses her, abruptly but with a sort of delicate gentleness, by the end of which he has both hands cradling her face._

LYNLEY  
_(softly)  
_Adele…

ADELE  
_(truly breathlessly)  
_We should get back…You – you have an investigation to finish…

LYNLEY  
I think your son has it in hand…

_He leans down and kisses her forehead with lingering gentleness._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
But we can go if you want.

ADELE  
Okay.

_She turns away, forcing LYNLEY, a bit dejected by this response, to lower his hands from her face._

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT – NIGHT.**

_CRAWFORD settles on the sofa with his trademark bowl of crisps to watch television as THOMAS CRAWFORD rummages restlessly through a box of oil paints on the kitchen table. A small canvas with a bright outline of a geometric construct lies on the table as well, awaiting further application, but THOMAS appears in no hurry to utilize it; his mind is clearly on something else. CRAWFORD, observing this, pipes up:_

CRAWFORD  
You all right, lad? Never seen you this restless about resumin' a project.

THOMAS  
_(distractedly)  
_Yeah, just…a lot on my mind tonight.

_He removes two paint tubes from the box and sets them absently beside the canvas._

THOMAS, CONT.  
This case – and Mum on a date –

CRAWFORD  
_(coldly)  
_Your mum went out? The day they cancelled her exhibition 'cause her landlord got stabbed all to hell?

_THOMAS looks up from the paints._

THOMAS  
Don't be so hard on her, Granddad. I think she needed it – and anyway, it's not really a date.

CRAWFORD  
Not really a date? What, who's she with? McAllister?

_He grins._

THOMAS  
_(chuckles)  
_Nearly. DI Lynley from the Met.

_He reaches back into the box for two additional colors and so does not notice CRAWFORD sitting up a little, his expression darkening._

CRAWFORD  
Lynley?

THOMAS  
Yeah, he's in town workin' on this case with us. He's married and all, but I guess he and Mum knew each other a long time ago.

_He falls silent for a moment, his cheerfulness fading as he stares into the box. The flat handle of one of his palette knives (a different style from the murder weapon, albeit clearly a similar instrument) lies just beneath his hand. He glances over at his grandfather._

THOMAS, CONT.  
The Inspector said he used to come round the pub, back in his uni days. Did you know him?

CRAWFORD  
_(vehemently)  
_Not any better'n I had to. 'Scuse me.

_He gets up and storms into the kitchen for a beer, leaving a very confused THOMAS staring after him for a long moment – then, frowning, THOMAS tosses the paint tubes back into the box and goes to his room._

**INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. ADELE'S BEDROOM – NIGHT.**

_LYNLEY is sitting on the hotel bed as ADELE pours out paper cups of some unimaginably cheap newsagent wine and hands one to him. Their interactions are utterly fraught with sexual tension after the kiss at the Zodiac._

ADELE  
Sorry for this. I was hoping to have sold a painting or two at the grand opening tonight and be blissfully sipping champagne by now.

_She sits beside him, both hands curled around her drink._

LYNLEY  
What's your asking price on those paintings anyway?

_She gives him a curious, sidewise look._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
I'll buy a couple and secure you the best champagne to be had at this hour of the night.

_She looks away with a small smile._

ADELE  
Don't tease me, Thomas.

LYNLEY  
_(genuinely)  
_I'm not – your paintings are brilliant. I'd buy the lot, but that wouldn't leave much for your rescheduled exhibition.

ADELE  
Assuming anyone bothers to show up.

_She takes a drink, using the cup as a distractive prop once again._

LYNLEY  
It's a murder scene; of course they'll show up.

_ADELE winces and sets aside her drink; chastened, LYNLEY addresses the wall opposite._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
I'm sorry.

_ADELE rests a hand on his leg, prompting him to look back at her._

ADELE  
_(gently)  
_Don't be. Davey could be a sweetheart now and again, but I didn't love him.

_She draws a long slow breath, taking care to look anywhere but at him._

ADELE, CONT.  
I didn't – I haven't…

_She looks up at his profile and the words fall out._

ADELE, CONT.  
I've never loved anyone but you, Thomas.

_LYNLEY gives her a strange, stricken look at this declaration; mortified, she looks away and continues in a rush:_

ADELE, CONT.  
It's funny, y'know – all these years, all the places Tom and I have been, the people we've met, and yet –

LYNLEY  
_(softly)  
_Adele –

_She closes her eyes as though in pain and hurriedly interrupts him._

ADELE  
Don't say it, please. I know it was nothing to you – just a shag. Something that just happens when you're excited for end of term, leaving uni or starting uni or whatever, and you go your separate ways and never think of it again…  
_(long painful pause)  
_I know that; I think I even knew it then, but…well…to me it was everything.  
_(gives a broken little laugh)  
_Happiest day of my life. I loved you so much –

_She breaks off with a choked chuckle, her eyes focused on his knee where her hand is resting._

ADELE, CONT.  
Still love you, as a matter of fact.

_There is another long horrible pause. She looks up at him at last with forced brightness._

ADELE, CONT.  
Pathetic, aren't I?

_LYNLEY is still regarding her silently with that strange stricken look._

ADELE, CONT.  
_(continuing with the forced brightness)  
_Right. This is when we both look away and change the sub –

_Without warning LYNLEY leans forward to kiss her full on the lips – with no small measure of ardor. For a moment ADELE is too stunned to respond, then she brings her hands to his shoulders and – almost unbelievably – pushes him away. He stares down at her in intense, breathless silence._

ADELE, CONT.  
_(brokenly, almost sobbing)  
_Don't! Don't humor me with your pity! We both know you never –

_She breaks off as LYNLEY kisses her again, more passionately than before. This time ADELE does not resist but kisses him back with perfect desperation, burying her hands in his hair to pull him against her. (They are, in a very real way, picking up where they left off 25 years ago with their last frantic kisses, that morning in YOUNG LYNLEY's room.) After a few moments of this madness LYNLEY moves to kiss her throat, collarbones, etc. in a fevered progression toward the neckline of her dress. ADELE's fingers are tangled in his hair, pleading for – almost demanding – this; still, in spite of herself, she gasps a protest:_

ADELE, CONT.  
Oh God, Thomas, we can't…

_LYNLEY ceases in his progression but presses a few last, light kisses to the skin of her chest and throat before drawing back to look into her eyes; stroking the curve of her cheek with the backs of his fingers._

LYNLEY  
_(softly)  
_Do you want to stop?

ADELE  
_(whispers)  
_No…God, no…

LYNLEY  
_(huskily)  
_Me neither.

_He leans down to kiss her fiercely, almost tearing at her dress as he pushes her onto her back on the bed, while ADELE kisses him back in a like manner and frantically looses the buttons of his shirt._

**INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. ADELE'S BEDROOM – NIGHT.**

_LYNLEY and ADELE are lying in bed, exhausted and sated following their impassioned interlude. LYNLEY lies on his back with ADELE cradled to his chest, trailing his free hand over the skin of her back – not unlike YOUNG LYNLEY and YOUNG ADELE after their first encounter._

LYNLEY  
Adele?

_She is far too contentedly snuggled to be particularly loquacious._

ADELE  
Hmm?

LYNLEY  
When this case is over, I'll be going back to London.

ADELE  
I know.

_She closes her eyes, tucking her face more snugly against his chest._

ADELE, CONT.  
Please don't speak of it now.

_For the first time (perhaps in his life), LYNLEY has a tangible moment of decision._

LYNLEY  
I want you to come with me.

_Her eyes snap open in surprise._

ADELE  
What?

_She sits up halfway to meet his eyes, stunned and uncertain as to whether he's being serious. LYNLEY brings a hand to her cheek._

LYNLEY  
_(tenderly)  
_This is no life for you, darling – you or Tom. You should be at the Tate, and he should be at the Met – as a Detective Sergeant at the very least.

ADELE  
_(carefully)  
_I can't deny that's what I want – what I'd planned, even, before you came.

LYNLEY  
_(searching her eyes)  
_And now that I have…does it make a difference?

ADELE  
_(with a bit of cold pride)  
_I don't know, Thomas. Should it?

LYNLEY  
_(wounded by this response)  
_I would hope –

ADELE  
You would hope. Yes, I hoped, twenty-five years ago when I let you take me to bed.  
_(meaningfully)  
_Let you take more than that.

LYNLEY  
_(still wounded but more contrite)  
_I know. My behavior toward you was inexcusable.

ADELE  
_(quietly)  
_Not entirely.

_He leans up to press a kiss to her forehead._

LYNLEY  
I'm sorry, Adele. Sorry I didn't realize twenty-five years ago that you were worth a hundred of…whoever the hell I was dating then.

ADELE  
_(demurring)  
_I wasn't…

LYNLEY  
But you were – you are.  
_(intensely)  
_Exquisite, independent, bound to no one and nothing, and twice as beautiful as you were then...

_She looks away for a moment, processing this, and he brings a hand to her cheek to push back a lock of hair._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(softly)  
_Believe what you like, Adele; I think I'm falling in love with you.

_She looks back at him with wide, stunned eyes._

LYNLEY  
I haven't the slightest idea what I'm going to do, or what I'll tell my wife, but…I want to be with you.  
_(a little raggedly)  
_I _need_ to be with you.

_ADELE gives a small sob and leans down to kiss him for many long gorgeous moments before pulling away abruptly._

ADELE  
No! Thomas…you can't imagine how long I've wanted…but we can't. Your wife- !

LYNLEY  
I told you, we're practically separated –

ADELE  
_(indignantly)  
_Making me, what, your mistress?

LYNLEY  
_(shamed by this assumption)  
_No! Adele, that's not what I meant –

ADELE  
And what about Barbara Havers?

LYNLEY  
_(thoroughly confused)  
_What about Havers? She's my colleague –

ADELE  
She understands you – complements you – in a way I never could.  
_(as a realization)  
_I think she loves you, Thomas –

LYNLEY  
_(sharply)  
_Oh, will you stop this lunacy? If you don't want to be with me, just say so; don't drag Helen and Havers into it.

ADELE  
I _do_ want to be with you, more than anything. It's all I've ever wanted. But –

_She breaks off, fighting 25 years' practice of burying the truth, and LYNLEY looks at her with a new sympathy._

LYNLEY  
Is it Tom?

ADELE  
_(with very little irony)  
_Yes.

LYNLEY  
You're worried about how he'll view our relationship?

ADELE  
No – yes –  
_(frustrated)  
_It's more than that.

LYNLEY  
_(stepping onto the proverbial eggshells)  
_Is…is it to do with his father, Adele?

_ADELE gives him a direct, assessing look, as though willing him to figure this out for himself._

ADELE  
Yes.

_There is a long pause as LYNLEY ponders this but does not reach ADELE's obvious conclusion._

LYNLEY  
And…what? Has he threatened you?

ADELE  
No –

LYNLEY  
Threatened Tom?

ADELE  
No!

LYNLEY  
_(exasperated)  
_Then _what_? Why the secrecy, Adele? Why _does_ no one know who Tom's dad is – not even Tom? If he cared so little as to get you pregnant and run off, why the _hell _did you row with your father and leave home over it?

ADELE  
_(startled)  
_How did you know about that?

LYNLEY  
I came to see you at Christmas.

ADELE  
_(were it possible, more stunned than before)  
_You _what_?

LYNLEY  
I came to the pub at the start of the Christmas holidays, thinking to catch you at work, and you were gone. The waitress – one of your mates – said you'd left after a row with your father "over a lad."  
_(pauses a moment)  
_I suppose it served me right, not having come after you till then.

_ADELE is still staring at him in shock._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
The boy you fought over was Tom's dad?

ADELE  
Yeah…my dad wanted to blackmail him and his mum. Money for ruining my education – my life, as dad saw it.

LYNLEY  
And you wouldn't go along with it?

ADELE  
Never in a million years. I loved him –  
_(very softly)  
_- still love him – too much to ruin his life like that.

LYNLEY  
But…

_He gives a self-deprecating little laugh at his own idiocy at mentioning this at all._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
It's the strangest thing, Adele, but half an hour ago you said I was the only man you ever loved.

ADELE  
_(evenly)  
_You are.

_LYNLEY _really_ looks at her, finally putting the pieces together: pregnant at Christmas, potential blackmail…_

ADELE, CONT.  
_(in a small, almost guilty voice)  
_I let everyone think what they were going to anyway – that it happened later. New girl at school, an older boy – Kip Finnegan, maybe. Truth is, I knew I was pregnant a month before I went off to uni.

LYNLEY  
Adele...are you saying – ?

ADELE  
_(quietly)  
_He's your son, Thomas.

LYNLEY  
Oh my God.

_There is a long, agonizing silence as LYNLEY attempts to take this in and ADELE mentally flails for an explanation._

ADELE  
I didn't mean for you to find out like this.

LYNLEY  
_(still astounded)  
_"Like this"?  
_(his anger begins to surface)  
_Why didn't you tell me twenty-five years ago?

ADELE  
_(reasonably)  
_Would you really have wanted that? The young earl of Asherton, fresh from Oxford, on the brink of a brilliant career, and a seventeen-year-old one-night stand rings up to say she's having your baby?

LYNLEY  
(_a little uncomfortable at the truth in this accusation but still righteously angry)  
_I would have provided for you.

ADELE  
_(with slight bitterness)  
_Paid me off, you mean? A couple hundred quid and I never come near you again or breathe a word about Tom – who you'd probably have taken away to raise in your mansion by the sea. Well, you kept your money and your good name. I got to raise your son, and –  
_(stops sharply mid-sentence, only to continue a moment later in a softer voice)  
_And I never had to hear you say you didn't love me. So where's the harm?

LYNLEY  
_(disbelief)  
_Where's the harm? Adele, I have a twenty-five-year-old son that I never knew existed! DC on this case, no less, who –  
_(breaks off at a sudden realization)  
_Oh God. If he –

ADELE  
He doesn't know, remember? I told him little enough about his dad…  
_(her eyes flicker to his)  
_He knows he was named for him.

_LYNLEY is a little slow on the uptake for this one._

LYNLEY  
Thomas…oh God –

ADELE  
_(wearily; her strength/anger/frustration have begun to wane)  
_I'm sorry, Thomas…I'm so sorry. I never meant to keep him from you; I was just so scared…Scared that Dad would blackmail your mum. Scared of the Asherton lawyers hunting me down and taking my baby. Scared that having the child of the man I loved more than life would ruin him. I did the only thing I could think of, taking Tom and me out of the equation.

LYNLEY  
_(frankly; calculating)  
_What do you want?

ADELE  
_(emotionless, as though she has long anticipated this question and already prepared her response)  
_I want nothing from you.

LYNLEY  
Then why tell me about Tom now?

ADELE  
Because you asked, for one! And because you were ready to sweep us up and carry us away to a life of luxury in London on the basis of – what exactly? Shagging me twice? I couldn't let it go on; couldn't watch you with Tom, neither of you knowing –

_He abruptly gets out of bed and drags on his trousers._

LYNLEY  
_(brusquely)  
_Does anyone else know? Besides your father?

ADELE  
_(with great reluctance)  
_Sergeant Havers, maybe…

LYNLEY  
_(his rage is about to descend)  
_You told my sergeant –!

ADELE  
_(retorts)  
_I didn't tell her anything. She was curious – more than curious – about him...and his dad. She's a perceptive woman; if she's spent the day with the two of you –

LYNLEY  
Bloody hell.

_He stands and pulls on his shirt, angrily fastening the buttons. ADELE sits up, holding the blankets to her chest with one arm as she reaches for her dress and begins to struggle into it. LYNLEY storms to the door._

ADELE  
Thomas, what are you – where are you going?

LYNLEY  
_(caustically)  
_To make sense of this bloody tangle.

_He leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. ADELE finishes pulling on her dress and sits in bed for a moment, listening to his footsteps retreating down the hall, then she slowly gets out of bed to put on her coat and shoes. She's very calm but her cheeks are streaked with tears._


	13. No Bearing on the Case

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. HAVERS'S BEDROOM – NIGHT.**

_LYNLEY, being entirely dense, has put himself and HAVERS in adjoining bedrooms. HAVERS is sitting on her bed with the television on, not really watching it, and smoking nervously – being well aware that LYNLEY's out shagging their key witness – when the adjoining door flies open and LYNLEY comes into her room. In an awkward series of motions, she straightens quickly, stubs out her cigarette, and turns off the television._

HAVERS  
Sir. I wasn't expecting you.

_He glares daggers at her and she hastily amends her remark. _

HAVERS, CONT.  
I mean, not this early.

_LYNLEY sits in a chair beside the bed – forcefully, in agitated silence._

HAVERS, CONT.  
_(delicately prompting)  
_Sir?

_The only response is more silence._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Your date not go well?

_LYNLEY looks at her coldly, then away._

HAVERS, CONT.  
_(fed up with being tactful)  
_Right. Sir…  
_(still, she winces before she says it)  
_Has this anything to do with Thomas Crawford?

LYNLEY  
_(sharply)  
_What are you implying, Havers?

HAVERS  
Nothing, sir; sorry, sir. It's just…

LYNLEY  
(_his subsequent remarks are all short and abrasive)  
_Just what?

HAVERS  
Well…you said yourself you used to come round Crawford's pub, and…

LYNLEY  
And?

HAVERS  
I thought you might know who Tom's father was, is all.

LYNLEY  
Or you thought I might be his father.

_She briefly contemplates denying this._

HAVERS  
Well, yeah, if you say so. You'll excuse me for sayin', but the lad looks just like you, sir.

LYNLEY  
_(hisses)  
_How dare you, Havers?

HAVERS  
How _dare_ I? Sir, nearly everyone I've spoken to regarding this case has made some reference to Thomas Crawford's mysterious father; I thought it might have some bearing –

LYNLEY  
_(flatly)  
_I know who his father is. Rest assured, it has no bearing on this case.

_He gets up as abruptly as he sat down and goes through the adjoining door into his room. HAVERS sinks back on her pillows and stares at the wall._

**EXT. THE TANGLED HARE – NIGHT.**

_A minicab pulls up, half a block away from the pub, and ADELE gets out. She slips down a dimly lit alley and trips around to the pub's back door, which she unlocks carefully. She steps inside and –_

**INT. THE TANGLED HARE. REAR ENTRANCE – NIGHT.**

_- arrives at the rear entrance of the pub, just opposite the kitchen and the stairs to CRAWFORD's flat. She walks very quietly up the stairs -_

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT – NIGHT.**

_- unlocks the door to the flat, tiptoes across the living room, and goes into what was her room in the flashback – now THOMAS's bedroom. _

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. THOMAS'S BEDROOM – NIGHT.**

_THOMAS CRAWFORD is lying in the bed in a t-shirt and boxers, fast asleep, looking terribly young and carefree. ADELE silently pulls off her shoes and coat, turns back the duvet and crawls into bed beside him. She strokes his hair, bends to kiss his cheek, and promptly begins shaking with sobs._

ADELE  
Oh, Tommy…

_She lies down beside him, curling an arm around his waist, and THOMAS rouses slightly at the touch._

THOMAS  
Mum…?

ADELE  
I'm so sorry…

THOMAS  
Shh…

_He brings his arms around her, tucking her snugly against his chest, not needing to know what's upset her in order to provide comfort._

THOMAS, CONT.  
It's all right…shh…

**INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S BEDROOM – NIGHT.**

_LYNLEY is lying fitfully in bed and gets up abruptly, pulling on clothes yet again. He grabs his coat and walks out of the room._

**INT. POLICE STATION – NIGHT.**

_LYNLEY walks into the building and quickly finds ROTHEBY, a bleary-eyed constable._

LYNLEY  
Davey Gilchrist's keys – have they finished with the prints?

ROTHEBY  
Yes sir, just Gilchrist's.

_He picks up a sealed bag with the keys inside and proffers it to LYNLEY._

ROTHEBY, CONT.  
Have you found something, sir?

_LYNLEY shakes his head feverishly as he takes the bag._

LYNLEY  
I need to get into the Galleria.

ROTHEBY  
_(concernedly)  
_I'll go with you, sir.

LYNLEY  
No, I just – I'll just be a few moments.

_He turns and leaves the station as quickly as he came._

**EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – NIGHT.**

_LYNLEY ducks under the police cordon and pulls on the glass front doors. They are locked, of course, so he tries one key after another, a little frantically, till one clicks and unlocks the door. _

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – NIGHT.**

_Once inside, LYNLEY quickly locks the door again and hurries across the gallery to the stairs that lead to ADELE's flat. He climbs the steps and arrives at the flat to find that it, too, is locked, and he tries every key on the ring, perhaps more frantically than before, till one opens the door. _

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA. ADELE'S FLAT – NIGHT.**

_LYNLEY shoves the door open and runs inside, turning on all the lights in the process. He begins rummaging through things in a decidedly unprofessional fashion, quite possibly not knowing what he's looking for but making a furiously good show of it. In the process he comes across a shelf of photo albums but shoves them aside. He goes into ADELE's bedroom and pauses a moment (like everyone else) to stare at the exquisite white dress hanging on her wardrobe, then he begins fumbling through the items on her dresser. As such, he comes across the photo of YOUNG THOMAS CRAWFORD at Howenstow with nary a hint of warning and recoils as though he's been struck._

LYNLEY  
Oh my God.

_He slumps onto the edge of the bed and holds the picture to the light so as to better ascertain its detail._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
But – how…?

_He sets aside the picture and returns to the living room to dig through the stack of photo albums that he had rejected earlier. He pulls out one whose cover is marked "Cornwall – 1990" and flips past all the requisite touristy shots, beaches, YOUNG THOMAS running around in swim-shorts, etc. – and stops abruptly at a page with several scenic shots of Howenstow. Frowning, he turns another page and sees a picture of his mother, LADY ASHERTON, smiling warmly as she crouches beside YOUNG THOMAS and a couple of DOGS._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
But – ?

_On the page opposite is a short letter:_

_Dear Tommy and Adele_

_Thank you for your visit to Howenstow and the lovely card and photograph. It was too kind of you to oblige a lonely widow  
with your company. Do call again when next you are in Cornwall and I will arrange for a proper tea._

_Yours faithfully  
__Daze  
__Lady Asherton_

_The letter is followed by a few photos of the grounds and the magnificent interior of the house. In a state of mingled betrayal and curiosity, LYNLEY keeps looking through the album, but at YOUNG THOMAS this time, tracing the shape of the little boy's face in the pictures. Suddenly he sets the Cornwall album aside and grabs one from the bottom of the stack, labeled simply "Tommy – 1985." These are pictures of BABY THOMAS, of course, a few of which also have YOUNG ADELE, looking exactly as she did in the flashbacks. LYNLEY inhales with something like a sniffle and it is apparent that, in spite of himself, he's crying._

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. THOMAS'S BEDROOM – VERY EARLY MORNING.**

_ADELE gets up silently and goes to her son's dresser for a jumper, which she pulls on over her dress. She puts on her shoes and coat and tiptoes back over to the bed, where THOMAS is sleeping peacefully. She bends down to kiss his forehead, then quietly creeps out of the room._

**INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. CORRIDOR – VERY EARLY MORNING.**

_ADELE is walking back to her room when she sees LYNLEY sitting on the floor in the corridor, holding a photo album like it's his last friend and looking utterly desolate. Despite their last conversation, she goes to him at once._

ADELE  
Thomas…what's wrong?

LYNLEY  
_(hopelessly)  
_I broke into your flat.

ADELE  
_(consolingly)  
_You're the police and it's part of a crime scene; I imagine that's your job.

LYNLEY  
No, I…I found these –

_He demonstratively opens the Cornwall album and stares down at it._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
And –

ADELE  
Yes, about that.

_She settles companionably beside him on the floor._

ADELE, CONT.  
I'm so sorry. By the time Tom was five, I…I couldn't help it. Howenstow was the closest I could get to you, so I told Tom we were going on a trip of scenic Cornwall.  
_(smiles)  
_I told him it was some big important old house, and we were just going to take a few pictures and drive off when your mum comes running out with her spaniels and says won't we come in for tea and biscuits? And you can't tell a five-year-old that he can't go inside the big important old house and have biscuits with the nice rich lady and play with her dogs.  
(_shakes her head at the memory)  
_And then, of course, she had to give him a tour and we were there quite half the day...

_She glances up at LYNLEY, who is still a bit shell-shocked, before continuing softly._

ADELE, CONT.  
I didn't tell her, and she didn't guess, I don't think – or if she did, she never said. She said she had a Tommy too, but I don't think she ever made a connection between the two.  
_(sighs)  
_It broke my heart not to tell Tom she was his grandma; she was so kind and he liked her so much.

_LYNLEY stares down at the picture of eyes-as-big-as-his-head YOUNG THOMAS, making a ragged sob-like sound._

LYNLEY  
He's so beautiful, Adele…

ADELE  
_(sad smile)  
_He is, rather, isn't he? – or was, till he got older and started looking like his dad.

_LYNLEY laughs brokenly; ADELE rests a hand on his and interlaces her fingers through his._

ADELE  
Thomas, please – let's not fight anymore. It was cruel of me not to tell you all these years, but…I was so scared. Scared of losing Tom, scared of hurting you or your mum, scared of what you'd say when you found out I'd had your baby…

LYNLEY  
He must hate me.

ADELE  
(_hesitates a moment)  
_Before I knew about your occupation, my dad found out, somehow – I don't know how; from the papers or something – and told Tom his dad was a DI. Two weeks later Tom was talking to a police recruiter and art school – complete with a place at The Ruskin – was out the window.

_LYNLEY turns to face her fully as he takes this in._

ADELE, CONT.  
Tom wants so desperately to know his father, simply on the basis that I loved him and gave up everything to raise his child. And you've seen how he admires you; if he finds out you're his dad –

LYNLEY  
You mean to tell him, then?

ADELE  
Eventually…yes – if you don't mind.

LYNLEY  
_Mind?_ He's my only child, Adele; I should be doing everything in my power to make him the next earl of Asherton!

ADELE  
No – please don't! That's not why –

LYNLEY  
_(gently)  
_I know.

_He stands and offers her a hand._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Come on.

_He helps ADELE to her feet; she unlocks the door and they go into the room._

**INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. ADELE'S ROOM – VERY EARLY MORNING.**

_LYNLEY, presumably asleep, is curled contentedly around ADELE in the bed, with an arm across her waist holding her back against him. ADELE is still awake and looking thoughtful; her arm rests on his and she absently caresses his hand where it lies across her rib cage._

ADELE  
_(softly)  
_Thomas?

_His response is much more conscious than she anticipates – clearly he is lying awake with his thoughts as well, though his eyes are still closed._

LYNLEY  
Yes, darling?

ADELE  
Back at the restaurant, I said that – sending Tom to my dad was the hardest thing I ever did.

_LYNLEY opens his eyes, made curious by this train of thought, and gently kisses the nape of her neck as she continues._

ADELE, CONT.  
It was necessary, and it was awful – wrenching, really – and I despised each moment that he had to spend in that place, but…  
_(trails off, with indecision or reluctance)_

LYNLEY  
_(prompts gently)  
_But…?

_She turns in the circle of his arms to face him._

ADELE  
(_quietly)  
_Walking away from you was the hardest thing I ever did.

_LYNLEY frowns, strangely stunned by this revelation._

ADELE  
_(now that the words are out she continues in a rush, not meeting his eyes)  
_Even as I knew that you didn't want me – not really, not forever. Even as you told me there was another girl you wouldn't leave for me. Even as your whole attitude screamed that you'd never even consider more than a one-night stand with me. You slept with me because, I don't know, it seemed like a good idea at the time and had proven reasonably enjoyable, and now it was time for me to go home.

LYNLEY  
(_wincing at the brutal truth in her words)  
_As you say, I was a right bastard. What made it so hard to walk away from that?

ADELE  
_(almost a whisper)  
_That, at some level, you didn't want me to be upset, and you didn't want me to go.  
(s_uddenly fragile, terrified of denial, she looks into his eyes; whispering)  
_Did you?

_LYNLEY breathes raggedly as he looks at her but does not reply; slightly emboldened by his hesitation, ADELE endeavors to support her theory._

ADELE  
(_her voice is still quiet but no longer quite as weak)  
_The moment you mentioned _her_…well, I expected brusque. Dry my tears, grow up and get out. But…you didn't want me to be upset, and when I tried to leave –

_LYNLEY's breath leaves him in a rush as he recalls their last moments together 25 years before._

**CUT to INT. YOUNG LYNLEY'S ROOM – LATE MORNING.  
****SUMMER, 1984 (FLASHBACK)**

_YOUNG LYNLEY grasps YOUNG ADELE by the shoulders and jerks her to him. They kiss for hours – a lifetime, it seems – dragging fingers through one another's hair, straining against each other, and then –_

**(END FLASHBACK)**

**CUT to INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. ADELE'S BEDROOM – VERY EARLY MORNING.  
****PRESENT DAY**

_ADELE is staring intently at LYNLEY, remembering the fierce passion of those last stolen moments._

ADELE  
Every bit of my soul went into that kiss.

LYNLEY  
_(at once a confession and a realization)  
_Mine too…Not in the way of yours – not consciously; there was no logic to it at all. I couldn't keep you, and yet I couldn't let you go –

_ADELE leans up and kisses him passionately; he kisses her back in a like manner and catches at her hips to pull her on top of him. The kissing continues for several moments until she draws back to catch a breath._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Did you know?

_Still breathless from their ardor, she shakes her head._

ADELE  
No…but you kissed me in the midst of rejecting me…That was enough.

_She kisses him again, lightly this time, and settles down to lie on his chest. LYNLEY strokes her hair, looking thoughtful._

LYNLEY  
Adele, when did you realize you were pregnant?

ADELE  
_(hesitant; softly)  
_You mean, were you still around to be told?

_His hand stills in her hair and she sits up a little to look into his eyes._

ADELE, CONT.  
Don't know what I'd've done, tell the truth, if you were. As it was, getting pregnant…I never dreamed it might happen, and so –

LYNLEY  
_(in a voice made slightly hoarse by emotion)  
_Please, Adele.

_She smiles and kisses him lightly on the lips._

ADELE  
August 8, 1984. Is that the answer you wanted?

_He gives a sigh, though whether it is one of frustration or relief is not apparent._

ADELE  
You were long gone – as I overheard it from the uni kids, anyway – and…not that I was expecting it, not in a million years, but…well, without going into too much gory detail, it'd been – well, long enough. Long enough that I should have…  
_(trails off in a blush)  
_I went to a chemist's across town – farthest from home I could find – and paid a uni girl five quid to buy the test for me. I could hardly stand for shaking at that point, to say nothing about being terrified that Dad might catch wind of what I was up to. I went up to Modern Art to use the loo – I couldn't very well go home – and I wanted to be in a place that meant something to me…  
(_draws a long, uneven breath)  
_I cried so hard that three attendants came to see if I was all right. My voice was a shred by the time I left.

LYNLEY  
_(sorrowfully)  
_Adele –

_She looks up, startled by the error in his observation, and though tears are streaking her face, her eyes are sparkling._

ADELE  
I was so _happy_.

_She catches his face in her hands._

ADELE, CONT.  
I thought I'd lost you completely – well, not that I'd ever had you to begin with, but –  
_(gives a broken little laugh at her own foolishness)  
_But yet here –

_She brings one hand to her abdomen. LYNLEY shifts her slightly and rests his hand on hers, regarding her with gently adoring eyes._

ADELE, CONT.  
It was something to live for – of which there seemed to be a shortage after you left. I went off to uni that fall knowing full well I wouldn't finish the year and not caring a whit, because I was going to spend the rest of my life with your child. It kept me sensible – not that I was ever much else. I was so terrified I might mess up somehow and lose the baby – silly things, like slip on the ice or eat the wrong foods. You know.

_He smiles up at her, but tightly – tears are pricking the corners of his eyes. _

ADELE, CONT.  
If the baby was a girl, I was going to name it Judith, after your sister.  
_(slightly abashed)  
_You'd mentioned her a time or two at the pub, and somebody said you'd rowed with your mum, so I couldn't very well name the baby after her.

LYNLEY  
_(raggedly)  
_Never mind but 'Dorothy' wouldn't have had the same ring to it.

_She gives another broken laugh and wipes at her eyes._

ADELE  
I wanted a boy so badly, never mind I'd never had a brother and knew next to nothing about the care and keeping of the opposite sex. Not to mention, then I could name him after you.

LYNLEY  
_(softly)  
_Thomas…

ADELE  
Thomas Ashlyn, to be precise.  
_(small smile)  
_I needed a middle name that was reasonably clever and reflected you in some way, but that no one could easily decipher as a clue to his parentage.  
_(chuckles)  
_Tom's convinced to this day that he was named after one of my girlfriends from uni.

LYNLEY  
_(quietly)  
_Adele, will you marry me?

_Her lips curve in a twisted smile – ironic, not cruel, even a trifle amused._

ADELE  
_(affectionately)  
_You're already married, you dolt.

LYNLEY  
I know. Will you wait till I'm not?

_She sits up, regarding him carefully._

ADELE  
Thomas, what are you – ?

LYNLEY  
I don't know.

_He brings a hand to her cheek._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Something I probably should have done a long time ago.

_He leans up to kiss her, long and searingly._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Will you at least come back to London with me?

ADELE  
_(with more than a slight squeak of eagerness in her breathless voice)  
_At _least_? Thomas, you know I'm only too keen to shake the dust of Oxford from my feet – again.

LYNLEY  
_(in an impassioned rush)  
_Then live with me –  
_(alters the invitation at her critical glance)  
_- stay with me, now and again, till Tom gets acclimated to the fact that his parents are desperately in love and making up for 25 years' lost time. And speaking of which…

_He kisses her again, quite as passionately as before, and pulls her back down onto him amidst her token protest of laughter. _


	14. His Other Girlfriend

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. HAVERS'S BEDROOM – MID-MORNING.**

_HAVERS, out of bed and dressed for the day, is finishing a call on her mobile as she goes to look for LYNLEY._

HAVERS  
Yes sir, I'll tell him.

_She terminates the call and walks over to knock lightly on the adjoining door._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Sir?

_Receiving no response, she opens the door, crosses through the adjoining bath and peers into his room. _

HAVERS, CONT.  
Sir?

_The bed was left in a rush and there is no LYNLEY in sight._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Right.

_She ducks back into her room, gets out her mobile again, and enters LYNLEY's number. It rings several times before his voicemail kicks in:_

LYNLEY, O.S.  
You've reached Detective Inspector –

_HAVERS promptly ends the call and redials a few seconds later._

**INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. ADELE'S BEDROOM – MID-MORNING.**

_ADELE emerges from her en suite bath in a towel with her black hair in soft, perfect curls, looking like nothing so much as a Greek goddess, to see LYNLEY sitting on the edge of the bed, mostly dressed in a half-buttoned shirt and trousers and completing a call on his mobile._

LYNLEY  
Yes, that'll be perfect. Thanks.

_His gaze settles on ADELE and he sets the mobile aside, unthinkingly, as she crosses to him._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(huskily)  
_Hello.

ADELE  
Hello.

_She blushes self-consciously and allows him to pull her down to straddle his hips._

ADELE, CONT.  
_(lightly; teasing)  
_Your other girlfriend – no, wait: your wife.

_She glances meaningfully at the discarded mobile, then back at LYNLEY._

LYNLEY  
_(returns her smile)  
_Your estate agent, darling.

ADELE  
My what?

_She sits back a little in surprise and he leans forward to kiss the hollow of her throat._

LYNLEY  
Do you think Tom would like Islington?

ADELE  
Islington? Really?

_She makes a sound akin to a squeal of delight and flings her arms around his neck, only to draw back a moment later._

ADELE  
Wait – Islington. Where is that in relation to you?

LYNLEY  
_(frowns)  
_Good point. I knew I should've stuck with Belgravia.

_He reaches for the mobile but she catches his hand._

ADELE  
_(softly)  
_I'm sure it's an easy jaunt when you're headed toward something you really want.

_LYNLEY looks smolderingly into her eyes for a long moment._

LYNLEY  
Easy enough – but a damned while to wait.

_He leans forward to kiss her lingeringly, then his lips slowly progress down the column of her throat as she threads her fingers through his hair. His hands are just loosing the towel where it is fastened above her breasts when his mobile rings. LYNLEY gives a ragged gasp of frustration but does not look away from ADELE._

LYNLEY  
Islington's fine. I'll commute.

ADELE  
_(raggedly)  
_Okay.

_She draws his face up and kisses him fiercely. The mobile stops ringing – then almost immediately begins ringing again, more insistently this time. ADELE pulls away and reaches for it, despite LYNLEY's groan of protest._

ADELE, CONT.  
They're obviously not giving up, and –

_She glances down at the screen and her lips twist in a wry smile._

ADELE, CONT.  
What do you know – it _is_ your other girlfriend.

_She hands him the mobile, the display of which reads "DS Havers."_

LYNLEY  
_(too frustrated to be offended by ADELE's implication)  
_I'm going to kill her. The. Most. Agonizing. Way I know how.

_He answers the furiously ringing mobile with clearly audible frustration._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Yes?

**CUT to INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S BEDROOM – MID-MORNING.**

_HAVERS is standing in the middle of LYNLEY's bedroom._

HAVERS  
_(with slightly sadistic cheeriness)  
_Good morning, sir. Um…can I ask where you are?

**CUT to INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. ADELE'S BEDROOM – MID-MORNING.**

LYNLEY  
_(sharpish)  
_Where any civilized person would be at this hour, Sergeant: still in bed.

**CUT to INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S BEDROOM – MID-MORNING.**

HAVERS  
It's the strangest thing, sir, but: I'm in your bedroom and –

_She crouches down to peer under the bed._

**CUT to INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. ADELE'S BEDROOM – MID-MORNING.**

_LYNLEY mutters something inaudible but unpleasant under his breath as HAVERS continues:_

HAVERS, O.S.  
While I'd hate to call you a liar, sir –

**CUT to INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S BEDROOM – MID-MORNING.**

_She straightens from her crouch._

HAVERS  
I'm inclined to say you're not here.

**CUT to INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. ADELE'S BEDROOM – MID-MORNING.**

_LYNLEY, rather impatiently anticipating further physical activity, is not amused, though ADELE, who is still perched on his lap in a barely-fastened towel, is grinning at the exchange._

LYNLEY  
_(caustically)  
_Regardless, I trust you have a reason for this call, Sergeant.

**CUT to INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S BEDROOM – MID-MORNING.**

_HAVERS gives a small smile._

HAVERS  
Sadly, yes, sir. I've just got a call from DS McAllister, who's suggesting that we reopen the gallery this evening with Adele under full police protection. Something about Rushwood bein' impatient, and since we've got Lundy in custody –

**CUT to INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. ADELE'S BEDROOM – MID-MORNING.**

_LYNLEY smiles, having forgotten in the process of his turbulent night the course of action he set in place._

LYNLEY  
Of course.

_He leans the mobile against his shoulder so HAVERS, who is still talking, will not hear, and addresses ADELE._

LYNLEY  
_(softly)  
_Darling, do you fancy reopening the gallery tonight?

_Her eyes widen in surprise._

ADELE  
What?

LYNLEY  
Last night – when Rushwood called you –

ADELE  
When you left – ?

LYNLEY  
I wasn't planning anything of the sort, but the expression on your face when you spoke with him –

_He touches her cheek with the fingertips of his free hand as she stares down at him._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
The thought that you might lose this chance…I told Rushwood that the show was reopening tonight, then called McAllister and asked him to authorize the arrangement, full police protection, and so forth.  
_(self-deprecatingly)  
_It was supposed to be his idea.

_They regard each other for several long silent moments, ADELE with wide-eyed disbelief and LYNLEY with apology, as HAVERS' voice continues over the mobile._

HAVERS, O.S.  
- suppose, with Lundy in custody, it's not the craziest idea in the world, and if he did have an affiliate, opening the gallery might –  
_(breaks off a moment before continuing in a louder voice)  
_Are you listening to me, sir?

LYNLEY  
_(lightly; with a note of amusement)  
_Yes, of course, Sergeant. Pending Miss Crawford's approval, you want to reopen the gallery this evening and supply her with a police escort?

_At these words, ADELE's stunned silence snaps into an expression of sheer joy, and LYNLEY's eyes are warm and focused only on her as he continues to HAVERS:_

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Might I volunteer for the task?

**CUT to INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S BEDROOM – MID-MORNING.**

HAVERS  
_(meaningfully)  
_I don't know; why don't you ask her yourself?

**CUT to INT. GABLES GUEST HOUSE. ADELE'S BEDROOM – MID-MORNING.**

LYNLEY  
I think I shall.

_He terminates the call and throws his mobile blindly onto the nightstand as he smiles up at ADELE._

LYNLEY  
Adele Elizabeth Crawford, do you have any objections to being seen with me in public?

ADELE  
I thought you'd never ask.

_She lunges forward, shoving him onto his back on the bed and kissing him wildly._

**CUT to INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S ROOM – MID-MORNING.**

_HAVERS stares down at her mobile in disgust._

**EXT. POLICE STATION – LATE MORNING.**

_LYNLEY and ADELE, slightly unkempt from passionate interactions en route (though both had the good sense to change into clothing other than what they'd worn the night before), are walking up to the building's main entrance. ADELE turns to LYNLEY, laughing merrily._

ADELE  
You told Rushwood's secretary that I was a potential shortlist for the Turner Prize?

LYNLEY  
_(slightly wounded)  
_You're a contemporary artist under fifty –

_ADELE is still laughing. It renders her quite disgustingly adorable._

ADELE  
Yes, with no controversy in my work to speak of! I mean, Tom would have a better shot at it with his abstracts –

_LYNLEY halts abruptly at this remark._

LYNLEY  
_(softly; startled)  
_Oh my God.

_ADELE's merriment fades in the face of concern._

ADELE  
What is it, love? I was only kidding –

_LYNLEY stares up at the building._

LYNLEY  
_(as a realization)  
_My son's in there.

ADELE  
_(smiling gently)  
_Mine too, as it happens. Coincidence?

_He exhales weightily and turns to her with a tight smile; she slips her hand through his and they walk into the building._

**INT. POLICE STATION – LATE MORNING.**

_THOMAS CRAWFORD is pacing in a fit of nerves while MCALLISTER, HAVERS, and a handful of other CONSTABLES look on._

THOMAS  
Has _anyone_ spoken with her?

MCALLISTER  
_(with thinly worn patience)  
_She's _fine_, Tom.

THOMAS  
With all due respect, sir, how do you know that? This isn't like her, not to call –

HAVERS  
_(in a tight voice)  
_DI Lynley's picking her up from her B they'll be here soon and –

_At that moment LYNLEY and ADELE walk in. They are loosely holding hands until ADELE sees THOMAS and jerks away from LYNLEY, who is eyeing THOMAS as though he's never seen anything so wonderful in all his life. HAVERS is the only one to observe these reactions and keeps them wisely to herself._

LYNLEY  
_(genially)  
_Forgive my lateness, gentlemen; I stopped to collect Miss Crawford on the way and –

_THOMAS all but ignores him as he pushes forward to address ADELE._

THOMAS  
Mum! My God, did you forget how to use a mobile? I've been worried sick –

ADELE  
No, I've just –

THOMAS  
And whose fool idea was it to reopen the gallery tonight?

MCALLISTER  
_(stammering his cover-up)  
_Well, I spoke with Stephen Rush–

HAVERS  
I think it was –

LYNLEY  
_(calmly)  
_Mine, as it happens.

_The others fall silent, THOMAS's rage immediately deflates and he has the good sense to look ashamed. LYNLEY's tone is strangely gentle as he addresses the young man he now knows to be his son._

LYNLEY  
Rushwood made an enquiry when he arrived at the gallery and saw signs of a crime committed there. His schedule – and patience – are such that he would have gladly turned around and gone back to London – and warned his colleagues to give this exhibit a wide berth, for good measure. We had one shot at keeping Rushwood in town and possibly saving your mother's career.

_THOMAS contemplates this, frowning in thought._

THOMAS  
But – he would have called the local police.

LYNLEY  
Well, actually –

ADELE  
He called me. At dinner, looking for Davey…I let him speak with the inspector, who contacted Sergeant McAllister to make the final arrangements.  
_(at her son's resultant expression)  
_Tommy, think about it: Lundy's in custody, with every likelihood of being charged with Davey's murder before the day is out. And if the killer is still out there – if the murder was meant to shut down my exhibition – you can bet he'll be skulking about when the gallery _does_ open, whether it's today or two weeks from now. Reopening the exhibition with the police on site gives them another shot at finding the killer while also granting us a second chance to make contact with Rushwood.

THOMAS  
And you couldn't just pick up your mobile and explain that to me?

ADELE  
I – didn't think…I was so caught up –

_She's clearly fumbling for words; HAVERS abruptly leaps in._

HAVERS  
Tom, your mum found Davey Gilchrist stabbed to death twenty-four hours ago. That's a ton of shock to handle, and you admitted she wasn't behaving like herself. I don't think she meant anything by not calling you –

_ADELE flashes an expression of startled gratitude at HAVERS._

ADELE  
Tommy, I didn't know for sure that my exhibition would have the chance to open at all, let alone this soon. I didn't want to tell you till I knew for certain, and by the time Sergeant Havers rang to let me know, McAllister'd already briefed you.

_THOMAS accepts her account without question, sighing audibly._

THOMAS  
You scared the hell out of me.

ADELE  
I know, and I'm sorry.

_She crosses quickly to hug him, and HAVERS catches LYNLEY's eye._

HAVERS  
Sir, if I could have a moment?

_His expression is calmly unreadable._

LYNLEY  
Of course, Sergeant.

_He follows her toward the interview rooms; ADELE draws back a little from the hug to look up at THOMAS._

ADELE  
Tommy, what's going on, really? You were fine with me going out last night, you even told me not to worry about calling you –

THOMAS  
_(quietly)  
_Well, for starters: my keys to your place are gone.

ADELE  
Gone…? As in –

THOMAS  
I had them when I left you, the night before Davey died, and last night I realized they were missing. I've looked everywhere –

ADELE  
That doesn't mean the killer has them, Tommy –

THOMAS  
_(ironically)  
_Well, they're not in the lost-and-found box, Mum – and then there's the little matter of you showing up at Granddad's in the middle of the night, crying.

ADELE  
_(exhaling slowly)  
_Tommy …it wasn't what you think…

THOMAS  
_(with slight exasperation)  
_Mum, I hardly know _what_ to think. You've _never_ come back to Granddad's, not since you ran away 25 years ago –

ADELE  
_(facetiously; attempting a smile)  
_Well, it's nice to know that he hasn't changed the locks on me.

THOMAS  
Seriously, Mum.

ADELE  
_(abruptly sobering)  
_I know. It was…I don't know, Tommy...  
_(she settles for a partial truth)  
_Talking with Inspector Lynley brought back memories – memories of my time at Dad's –  
_(she fumbles into a near-confession)  
__- _ of your dad…I didn't want to be alone in a B&B.

THOMAS  
You said "I'm sorry, Tommy…"

_He catches her face gently in his hands._

THOMAS, CONT.  
What in the world have you to be sorry for?

ADELE  
_(regretfully)  
_I let you grow up without a father…  
_(softer)  
_Let your father grow up without a son…

THOMAS  
Oh, Mum.

_He pulls her into a tight hug._

THOMAS, CONT.  
There were a million reasons why it couldn't be; you know that better than I do, and –

MCALLISTER, O.S.  
_(to one of the CONSTABLES)  
_Yes, once DI Lynley and his sergeant are back, we'll discuss the procedure in detail.

_ADELE perks up at the mention of HAVERS._

ADELE  
_(to MCALLISTER)  
_I'll fetch them, sir.

_She gently disentangles herself from THOMAS's arms._

ADELE, CONT.  
Back in a moment, love. There's just – something I wanted to ask the inspector before we get started.

THOMAS  
Promise you won't come back crying?

ADELE  
_(smiling serenely)  
_I think I can fairly guarantee it.

_She gives him a quick peck on the cheek and heads off in the direction in which LYNLEY and HAVERS left._

**INT. POLICE STATION. INTERVIEW ROOM – LATE MORNING.**

_A flushed and furious HAVERS is berating a calm, expressionless LYNLEY. Unbeknownst to her – and possibly LYNLEY as well – beneath all of her righteous indignation is a piercing note of pure, blinding jealousy._

HAVERS  
You want to be a little less obvious, sir?

LYNLEY  
What are you talking about?

HAVERS  
I'm talking about waltzing into the station, hours after everyone else, holding hands with Adele, with every appearance of having shagged her in the car on the way over! I suppose I should thank God or some whim of fate that you thought to change clothes before coming in.

_LYNLEY holds her gaze, almost challenging her, but he does not speak; infuriated, she continues:_

HAVERS, CONT.  
I mean, her son thinks too highly of both of you to even suspect you of it, but everyone else in that room knows full well that you slept with Adele last night.

LYNLEY  
_(acerbically)  
_Why, exactly? Because my sergeant felt it necessary to say –

HAVERS  
_(snaps)  
_Oh please! You can't take your eyes off each other – though, by some miracle you're keeping your hands to yourself…!

_She stalks away to the glass, forcibly slowing her breath._

**CUT to INT. POLICE STATION. CORRIDOR – MID-MORNING.**

_ADELE is standing on the other side of the glass, looking in. Judging by her pensive expression, she has been there for some time._

**CUT to INT. POLICE STATION. INTERVIEW ROOM – MID-MORNING.**

_Unaware of her audience, HAVERS turns back and resumes addressing LYNLEY, albeit in a slightly more controlled voice._

HAVERS  
Tom Crawford admires you more than anything, sir, but if he catches the slightest hint of what you're about, he'll tear you apart.

LYNLEY  
I don't doubt it.

HAVERS  
Then why risk it?  
_(visibly calming herself)  
_I haven't spoken to anyone and you should know by now that I won't, but McAllister's not above bringing you before a tribunal.

LYNLEY  
_(quietly)  
_I know.

HAVERS  
_(pained)  
_Then _why_? I'll defend you to the death, sir, but –

LYNLEY  
_(quieter still)  
_I love her.

_These words strike HAVERS like a blow to the chest._ _Her eyes widen in pain, quickly stifled._

HAVERS  
You just met her.

LYNLEY  
No, I didn't.

_He looks up at HAVERS, the confession on the tip of his tongue, when a knock sounds on the door. Neither of them moves for a moment, then HAVERS begrudgingly goes to open it. ADELE stands on the other side, not evading HAVERS's gaze but also not prolonging eye contact._

ADELE  
Sorry, Sergeant. Thomas – Inspector –  
(_hastily corrects herself because of HAVERS)  
_McAllister was looking for you both. He wanted to discuss the particulars for tonight.

LYNLEY  
Thank you, Miss Crawford.

_His tone in addressing ADELE, though equally quiet, is a polar opposite of his tone in addressing HAVERS a moment ago – tender and loving; HAVERS walks quickly past ADELE without a word, leaving LYNLEY and ADELE alone._

ADELE  
She's upset.

LYNLEY  
And then some.

ADELE  
Thomas…you do realize…

_Her brow furrows slightly, as though she's uncertain of how to say or even whether to say what she's thinking._

ADELE  
_(simply)  
_She cares for you a lot more than you realize.

LYNLEY  
I know.

ADELE  
_(regretfully, almost as a realization)  
_No…you really don't.

_He frowns, troubled by this remark._

ADELE, CONT.  
(_brightly changing the subject)  
_Never mind that now. You're taking me on our first proper date tonight.

_She brings a hand to the collar of his shirt and smiles_

ADELE, CONT.  
I hope you packed something suitable for the occasion.

LYNLEY  
Adele –

_Suddenly serious, he catches her hand against his chest._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
You do realize: if Gilchrist's killer is still out there –

ADELE  
(_the somberness in her voice belies the lightness of her previous remark)  
_I know.

LYNLEY  
Del, he stabbed Gilchrist to pieces –

_She brings a hand to his lips, gently silencing him._

ADELE  
Your primary suspect is already in custody, and I'm going to spend the evening in the midst of a police team I trust more than any in the world, including my son and his father – and the stroppiest redheaded sergeant I've ever met.

_LYNLEY cracks a sad smile at that._

ADELE, CONT.  
_(slightly breathless)  
_And afterwards, I'll be with you…

_She ends the statement on a hesitant note, as though still uncertain of their relationship status, and looks up at him. _

ADELE  
_(tentatively)  
_Won't I?

_He pulls her into the room, closes the door behind them, and kisses her fiercely._

LYNLEY  
You'll be lucky to get rid of me at all. Ever.

_He traces her lips with a fingertip._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
A night of pretending not to be in love with you is going to be hell.

ADELE  
_(raggedly)  
_Tell me about it.

_She leans up and kisses him again._

ADELE, CONT.  
Come on. _Somebody_'s bound to be suspicious that we're taking this long.

_She curls her hand through his, then thinks better of it and looses it again, looking up at him with intense eyes._

ADELE, CONT.  
"Hell" doesn't begin to cover it.

_His eyes acknowledge this longing as they exit the room._


	15. Tying Up Loose Ends

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. POLICE STATION – LATE MORNING.**

_The police STAFF are congregating, amid quiet conversation, for an address by LYNLEY and MCALLISTER, who are standing at the front of the room. HAVERS is close at hand, speaking to no one, and THOMAS CRAWFORD and ADELE are perched side by side on the edge of a desk near the front of the room. ADELE is loosely holding her son's hand._

MCALLISTER  
Right, if everybody's comfortable, we'd like to get you all on the same page before launching into this new campaign.

_The hum of idle chatter from the STAFF promptly ceases.._

MCALLISTER, CONT.  
Much obliged.  
_(to LYNLEY)  
_Inspector?

LYNLEY  
As many of you already know, we are currently holding Stephen Lundy, Gilchrist's janitor, on suspicion of his murder. The evidence is reasonably conclusive: Lundy's work coveralls, stained with Gilchrist's blood turned up in a bin yesterday afternoon. While it will be another 48 hours before we have DNA results on hairs found in the collar, the coveralls are indeed Lundy's. Lundy's alibi – namely, that he was home all evening, which none of the neighbors can definitely confirm – is nonexistent, though he repeatedly denies any involvement in the murder. We can hold Lundy till half-three today, at which point Sergeant Havers, DS McAllister and I will decide whether or not to charge him with Gilchrist's murder.  
_(pauses a moment)  
_There's been some – disagreement – regarding whether or not Lundy might've been capable of this; I think the evidence makes it clear that he was, but our primary concern today will be tying up those loose ends.

_He distributes a headshot of LUNDY to the STAFF._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Canvas the area – specifically, the two blocks between the Galleria and the phone box from which our killer rang Gilchrist; having a picture of the suspect might jog some memories. We might luck out with an eyewitness. DS McAllister will be going through the CCTV footage from that area as well. Also, let's follow up with anyone who was in the gallery the day before yesterday: namely, the florist and decorator. Both of these would've been in contact with Lundy at some point and might have noticed any unusual behavior. At the same time, keep an eye out for any new leads; it's possible that the killer had an associate, though which role Lundy played is currently anyone's guess.  
_(pauses a moment)  
_All of that being said, our secondary objective of the day is to see the Galleria reopened this evening, with Adele under full police protection – by which I mean: all staff in the Galleria from open till close, guarding her with your lives.

_He glances over at ADELE and she gives him a small smile in return._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
While this may seem excessive with Lundy in custody, as I said, we have reason to believe that he might not have worked alone, and if the objective was not merely Gilchrist's death but the cancellation of Adele's exhibition, reopening that exhibition barely a day off schedule is likely to draw Lundy's associate out of the woodwork. Much as we'd like Lundy to be the end-all be-all in this case, even if we do charge him with the murder this afternoon –  
_(deliberately, eyeing each of the STAFF in turn)  
_- we _will not_ slacken the security at the Galleria this evening. Is that understood?

_The STAFF murmur their assent; satisfied with this response, LYNLEY continues:_

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(to MCALLISTER)  
_Sergeant, if you will.

_MCALLISTER steps forward a bit._

MCALLISTER  
The key is to be inconspicuous. If Lundy's associate, assuming he's got one, catches even a hint that the Galleria's crawling with coppers, he'll turn tail and we've lost our chance at smokin' him out. None of us, at a glance, should be distinguishable from anyone else in the crowd – which means, for this evening, you'll be tradin' in your uniforms to dress for the occasion.

_MALVERN, a young constable, pipes up:_

MALVERN  
_(curiously)  
_Which is what, exactly, sir?

MCALLISTER  
_(clears his throat)  
_Erm…Miss Crawford, I'm afraid I need to defer to you on this one.

ADELE  
(_chuckles)  
_Well, it's not black-tie by any means, but we've promoted the opening as sort of an elegant occasion – you know, canapés, wine, string music, the whole bit – so I expect people will be dressed up. You'll get the odd uni kid or passerby in jeans; otherwise, the majority of the attendees will be in jacket-and-tie or dresses – think cocktail party, I guess.

_She grins at MALVERN, who is now wincing._

ADELE, CONT.  
Less formal's okay too if you go for lots of black. That's always acceptable on the art scene.

MCALLISTER  
_(betraying very little of his own discomfort at this requirement)  
_Right, you all heard the lady. Dress for a cocktail party.

_ROGERS, a uniformed constable, frowns and asks:_

ROGERS  
Sir, what if the killer recognizes some of us as local coppers, even out of uniform? Won't he wonder - ?

MCALLISTER  
_(reasonably)  
_If he knows the situation that well, then he knows that Adele's son is a Detective Constable and would expect to see a lot of off-duty coppers at the exhibition. I will be at the Galleria at half-five; the exhibition opens at seven. Rotheby, Clark, and Severn, you'll meet me there, no later than six. The wine merchant and florist are due about then, correct?

ADELE  
Assuming I can get back in their good graces this morning. God willing, we'll also have a baroque quartet and caterer with canapés coming in around that time.

MCALLISTER  
So we should be able to arrive in the midst of that, generating very little attention. Once their supplies are moved in, we make sure that any extraneous personnel are out of the building and all doors to the gallery are locked till seven. Fairchild, Gregory – you'll arrive just before, and Severn will admit you through the back door. Sergeant Havers –

HAVERS  
(_slightly surprised at being singled out)  
_Yes sir?

MCALLISTER  
From this moment until she walks into the gallery tonight, don't leave Adele's side. She goes to the loo, you go with her; when she's in the shower, I want you at the sink doing your makeup. Is that understood?

HAVERS  
_(without hesitation)  
_Yes sir.

MCALLISTER  
_(dryly)  
_While this will severely limit your opportunity to obtain inconspicuous formal attire, Sergeant, I trust Adele can supply you with something suitable.

_ADELE ventures a small smile at HAVERS._

ADELE  
You'll be spoiled for choice, believe me.

_In spite of herself, HAVERS returns the smile._

MCALLISTER  
Schneider, Malvern – you'll inspect the gallery and Adele's flat at four before she and Sergeant Havers arrive – and you'll remain in the building, keeping all entrances locked till I get there at half-five. Your responsibility is the entrance points: the glass front doors and, of course, the rear door leading to Del's flat, which will remain locked securely throughout the night once Fairchild and Gregory have arrived. Guests are to be admitted only through the front doors – alert me immediately if anyone attempts to enter through the back. If you note _anything_ out of the ordinary, ring Sergeant Havers at once and she'll bring Adele back here.  
_(addressing the full group)  
_Same goes for the rest of you. I don't care if Stephen Rushwood is offering her the deed to the Tate on a silver platter; if you detect the slightest hint of danger, grab your superior officer and at least two others for backup and get her the hell out.

_He flushes a little at his vehemence and adds, apologetically, to ADELE:_

MCALLISTER, CONT.  
While I'd hate to lock you in the station overnight, Del, especially if Rushwood does appear to make an offer, your safety is our ultimate priority.

ADELE  
_(smiling softly)  
_I understand, and I thank you, David.

MCALLISTER  
_(abrupt but gently)  
_You don't have to do this, you know.

_The room stills to absolute silence._

MCALLISTER, CONT.  
There's not a copper in this room who wouldn't willingly throw themselves between you and a bullet, but it might not be that simple. Gilchrist's death was brutal, and if he was just the prelude –

ADELE  
_(in a small voice)  
_I know –  
_(slightly stronger)  
_- and that's why I'm willing to take this chance. If Lundy's not our killer – if that person's still out there somewhere – and they wanted my show cancelled, they're going to be infuriated when it opens barely a day off schedule. They're not going to cover their tracks like they did with Davey, and with the police around on every hand, I think they'll slip up.

_She turns her hand to interlock her fingers with THOMAS's; he gently squeezes her hand in reply._

THOMAS  
What's the protocol if Rushwood should appear, sir?

_MCALLISTER nods and distributes a business headshot of RUSHWOOD to the STAFF._

MCALLISTER  
It's likely that he'll arrive quietly and endeavor to remain as such all evening. Stay close, but don't crowd him. When in doubt, Adele is your priority.

FAIRCHILD  
Are we keeping an eye out for anyone in particular, sir? Suspicious behavior, of course, but beyond that…?

_MCALLISTER sighs and reluctantly distributes another photo._

MCALLISTER  
Kip Finnegan.

_A few groans arise at this._

MCALLISTER, CONT.  
While Finnegan has an alibi for the time of the murder, he was seen to take special note of the gallery opening and is, shall we say, somewhat fixated on Adele.

_ADELE blushes and LYNLEY, slightly surprised by this revelation, glances over at her, only to make her blush deepen._

MCALLISTER, CONT.  
Let me make this absolutely plain: neither Finnegan nor his girlfriend Katherine Bramwell is a suspect in this case. Both are closely acquainted with Del and Tom, and as such, may seek private conversation with them. While you should never be out of earshot or a long arm's reach, Adele must be allowed to engage in normal interactions with Galleria guests.  
_(firmly)  
__Subtlety is key._ The average individual off the street should not so much as suspect the presence of the police force, let alone that Adele is under constant surveillance. Once we lose that, we've lost our chance at Gilchrist's killer. Is this understood?

STAFF  
Yes sir.

MCALLISTER  
Very good.

_He turns deliberately to LYNLEY._

MCALLISTER, CONT.  
DI Lynley, sir?

LYNLEY  
_(caught off-guard, yet carefully concealing any concern at this address)  
_Sergeant?

MCALLISTER  
Without making yourself conspicuous, your presence at the Galleria – your social standing, if you will – will lend a certain…prestige. While I'd like you near Adele at all times, feel free to engage Rushwood and any other guests of note – members of the press, for example – in conversation with your informed insights on the art scene.

_Genuinely surprised at the direction this request has taken, LYNLEY agrees:_

LYNLEY  
As you wish.

MCALLISTER  
If nothing else, Adele's reputation as an artist will no doubt benefit from the presence of a peer at the opening of her exhibition.  
_(to the STAFF)  
_You're dismissed. Keep sharply to your assignments for this evening, but do all that you can today to make them needless.

STAFF  
Yes, sir.

_The STAFF slowly begin to disperse, and THOMAS slips off the desk to address MCALLISTER._

THOMAS  
Sir? What would you have me do?

MCALLISTER  
_(gruffly)  
_You're making the greatest concession of anyone tonight, Tom: letting someone else look after your mum. You'll be expected to be visible at the Galleria and not terribly far from Adele; beyond that, I think we can rely on your judgment.

THOMAS  
Very good, sir.

_He turns to HAVERS with a wry smile._

THOMAS, CONT.  
Of all the people to leave Mum in care of.

HAVERS  
_(grinning in reply)  
_Well, I _am_ the highest ranking officer on hand who can follow her into the loo.

ADELE  
_(to them both; in a long-suffering tone)  
_This is going to be the longest day of my life –  
_(to HAVERS)  
_- and probably yours too, Sergeant.

_Her eyes are somber and fixed on HAVERS as she says this; both she and HAVERS know exactly to what she's referring._

THOMAS  
(_contradicting her with an easy smile)  
_C'mon, Mum – it won't be that bad. Sergeant Havers is probably looking forward to an afternoon at the wine merchant's.

HAVERS  
You have no idea.

_He grins broadly, still oblivious, and turns to LYNLEY, who is finishing a conversation with MCALLISTER._

THOMAS  
Inspector Lynley, I was wondering?

_LYNLEY turns to him with an expression that hinges on affectionate, though THOMAS remains blissfully oblivious._

LYNLEY  
Yes, Constable?

THOMAS  
Since you've lost your sergeant for the afternoon, sir, I was wondering – with Sergeant McAllister's leave, of course –  
_(nods to MCALLISTER)  
_- if I might accompany you for the duration?

_ADELE's eyes widen slightly and she glances between them, while HAVERS promptly finds interesting things to look at (an art she's mastered by this point in time)._

MCALLISTER  
_(shrugs; to LYNLEY)  
_I don't mind if you don't, sir.

LYNLEY  
_(warmly)  
_I'd be honored, Constable.

HAVERS  
_(abruptly, to ADELE)  
_Right – wine merchant. What else is on our schedule?

ADELE  
_(perfectly aware of HAVERS's discomfort)  
_Florist and caterer. I also need to ring the baroque ensemble and see if they can make it on this short of notice.

HAVERS  
Can you do that on the way?

ADELE  
Yeah, I have the number.

HAVERS  
_(almost brusque)  
_Right, let's go.

LYNLEY  
Havers?

_HAVERS turns back to him, a little sharply._

HAVERS  
What?

_He tosses her his car keys._

LYNLEY  
Because it wouldn't be particularly subtle for you to chauffeur Miss Crawford about in a police vehicle all day.

HAVERS  
_(grudgingly)  
_Fair enough.

_She and ADELE exit and MCALLISTER drifts away to talk to a few CONSTABLES still straggling away from his earlier address, leaving THOMAS with LYNLEY._

LYNLEY  
While I hate to deprive you of an opportunity to drive the Bristol, Constable, at the moment, I think Havers and your mum have a greater need for it.

THOMAS  
(_chuckles, but appreciatively)  
_I'm sure I'll survive, sir…so, where do we start?

LYNLEY  
Who had the most prolonged contact with Lundy the day before the murder?

THOMAS  
The decorator, hands down. Mum said she was at the Galleria by two, and Lundy would've been there from then till half-five. The florist only stopped by for a minute or two –

LYNLEY  
And Havers will be at the florist's this afternoon anyway. Let's have a chat with the decorator, see what she remembers.

**EXT. DECORATOR'S STUDIO – EARLY AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY and THOMAS CRAWFORD, conversing companionably, approach the gilded façade of the studio, the window of which bears the words "ALAINA MORRIGAN, DECORATOR" in elaborate etching._

LYNLEY  
Considering your mother's concerns over finances, it seems unusual for her to have hired a decorator.

THOMAS  
_(smiles)  
_Payment in kind, sir. Mum spent three weeks on a fresco for Alaina's office in exchange for decorating the Galleria.

_He opens the door for LYNLEY to enter._

**INT. DECORATOR'S STUDIO – EARLY AFTERNOON.**

_The studio is decorated in the same ethereal style as the Galleria – iridescent drapes, furniture in soft earth tones – and of course, a fresco very much in the style of ADELE's paintings. Silk vines frame the windows and thick flokati rugs cover the granite floor. ALAINA MORRIGAN, an attractive redhead in her mid-thirties, dressed in black gauchos and a ruffled blouse that would look ridiculous on anyone less cosmopolitan, settles elegantly in a high backed chair, motioning for LYNLEY and THOMAS to sit on the chaise opposite._

ALAINA  
_(smiling, to LYNLEY)  
_You obviously recognize Adele's fresco. I definitely got the better end of that bargain.

LYNLEY  
I should say so. It's exquisite –  
_(thoughtfully)  
_- albeit more in the style of Burne-Jones than I would have anticipated.

ALAINA  
_(grins)  
_Well spotted, sir. Del and I had a row a few years back over Burne-Jones' Pygmalion series; Del decried the whole work as little more than a caricature, especially the "listless waif" of a Galatea, and immediately set to creating her own series – which, no doubt, you've seen at the Galleria.

LYNLEY  
_(nods; almost proudly)  
_I confess, I've half a mind to inquire after her asking price, though I can't imagine my flat would be a worthy setting for such a masterwork.

_THOMAS glances over at him, flattered by this informed praise on his mother's behalf._

LYNLEY  
_(curiously)  
_Why the Burne-Jones style here, then?

ALAINA  
_(amused)  
_Revenge, I think. I'd have been over the moon with whatever Del produced – honestly, I owe her full refurbishment of her next flat or something – but the Burne-Jones theme was ideal for this medium.  
_(to THOMAS)  
_You worked on it quite a bit as well, if memory serves.

_LYNLEY looks at THOMAS in pleasant surprise._

LYNLEY  
I thought you only did abstracts. That is, your mother said –

THOMAS  
_(mildly correcting)  
_No, I'm only _good_ at abstracts. I've _attempted _all manner of styles –

ALAINA  
Oh hush. Everyone knows you're as talented as your mum, if not more so.  
_(lightly, almost teasing)  
_Your dad must have had an instinct for art as well, yeah?

LYNLEY  
_(without thinking)  
_Well, actually –

THOMAS  
_(to LYNLEY; incorrectly anticipating his remark)  
_It's all right, Inspector, she knows better than that.  
_(to ALAINA)  
_Maybe someday I'll find out.

_ALAINA smiles in reply, as does LYNLEY, though he is inwardly horrified at what he nearly said._

ALAINA  
Anyway, how can I help you gentlemen? You're here about Davey Gilchrist, no doubt. Poor bloke.

LYNLEY  
_(back in control of his words)  
_Indeed, Ms. Morrigan. We were wondering particularly what you could tell us about Steven Lundy.

THOMAS  
_(helpfully)  
_Janitor at the Galleria.

_He hands her the photo; she looks it over with interest._

THOMAS, CONT.  
Mum says he helped you with set-up.

ALAINA  
_(nods at the recollection)  
_Yeah, the scrawny chap. He was under my heels a bit, trying to help out where he could. I set him to tying bows, mostly. Friendly enough.

_She hands the photo back to THOMAS._

LYNLEY  
Did he say or do anything unusual?

ALAINA  
_(frowning in thought)  
_He got a call on his mobile; around four o'clock, I think it was. His mum's in hospital down in Hampstead, he said, and she'd taken a turn for the worse. He didn't say what was wrong with her, but he was rather anxious after that – he wanted to leave straightaway, but Davey made him stick around till half-five.

_THOMAS and LYNLEY exchange glances at this._

THOMAS  
How was he acting around Davey – before and after that call?

ALAINA  
Before – normally, I suppose. He said hello to everyone when he came in; he arrived about the same time I did

LYNLEY  
By everyone, you mean –

ALAINA  
Myself, Davey, and Adele. The florist – Stella, I think her name was – stopped by for a minute to size up the place and drive Adele down to the shop to finalize the flower arrangements, otherwise, that was it. We all got on well, for starters.

LYNLEY  
Including yourself and Gilchrist?

_She gives him a wry, amused glance._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
With Adele gone to the florist's –

ALAINA  
_(chuckles)  
_Well, I won't say he didn't take every opportunity to drop compliments, and more on my appearance than on the décor, but he didn't push further than that – partly because he had high hopes about dinner with Adele, I think, and – partly because my handsome husband came into the gallery to collect me.  
_(shakes her head)  
_Davey sort of muttered "hello" and drifted into the woodwork after that; Adele helped me tidy up when Katie brought her back at six.

LYNLEY  
_(echoing in curiosity)  
_Katie?

ALAINA  
Bramwell – general manager at Monsoon and a wicked brilliant dancer. Mutual friend of Adele and myself.

LYNLEY  
You said that Gilchrist "made" Lundy stay at the gallery, even though he'd received word that his mother was doing poorly. Can you elaborate a bit?

ALAINA  
I didn't hear the whole exchange, just bits and pieces, but I know that Mr. Lundy wanted to leave immediately and Davey wanted him there till all the décor was up. I told Davey I could finish on my own, no probs, but he was insistent that Mr. Lundy stick around. I think he was _that_ obsessed about Del's show going perfectly, what with the Tate expected and everything; he'd rather Mr. Lundy mop circles on the floor than send him home even a quarter-hour early.

LYNLEY  
_(to THOMAS, pointedly)  
_Interesting that Lundy didn't mention that in any of his interviews.  
_(to ALAINA)  
_How did Lundy react to Gilchrist's refusal?

ALAINA  
Not happily. I don't think he was prepared to get into a fistfight over it, Davey being his boss and twice his size, but I'd say he was that angry. When Davey finally let him leave at half-five, he made a point of telling Mr. Lundy that he was expected back the next morning at 10:00 sharp. Clearly, there'd be nothing for the janitor to do in the gallery at that hour, and he told Davey he'd be in at 2:00, if he ever came back at all, then he went off in a huff.

_LYNLEY's expression has gradually darkened at this account; if he was not convinced of LUNDY's guilt earlier, he is now._

LYNLEY  
Was he wearing work coveralls when he left?

ALAINA  
No – he changed out of them straightway when the hospital rang, anticipating Davey would let him go, I suppose.

THOMAS  
_(frowns; wondering aloud)  
_Mum didn't mention any of this –

ALAINA  
_(reassuringly)  
_She didn't know, love. She left with the florist at three o'clock, and, what with her other errands, by the time she came back the janitor was long gone. I didn't tell her –  
_(slightly abashed)  
_I figured she had enough to worry about without wondering whether or not Davey'd lost his janitor, and I expect Davey was too busy flattering her over dinner to spare a word about Mr. Lundy and his mum.

LYNLEY  
_(with a rigid sort of calm)  
_Ms. Morrigan – in your opinion, could Stephen Lundy have killed Davey Gilchrist?

_She draws a long, uncertain breath, then exhales in a sigh.._

ALAINA  
I wouldn't have thought it, sir, but I think it would depend on how he found his mum. Like I said, I don't know her health concern, but: if, say, she died in the time that Davey delayed him – yeah, I think he'd be capable of murder.

LYNLEY  
His mother is ninety-three and suffering from pneumonia. According to the nurse DS McAllister spoke with yesterday, she rallied wonderfully after a visit from Lundy.

ALAINA  
_(shakes her head)  
_In that case sir, I don't know. If he found her as well as that, I'd imagine he could forgive anything – but if he's the sort to carry a grudge…I just don't know.

LYNLEY  
Ms. Morrigan, in your conversations with Lundy, did he express any anger or resentment toward Adele Crawford?

ALAINA  
_(in surprise)  
_Toward Adele? Not at all, sir - he was chirping around her the whole while she was there, full of praise for her paintings – he liked that they looked like real people –  
_(smiles)  
_- and after she left – after the whole to-do with the phone call and Davey's delays – he told me it was a pity that a girl like Adele should be beholden to a prat like Davey, and thank God it wouldn't be for too much longer.

_LYNLEY and THOMAS exchange sharp glances at this._

LYNLEY  
What did he mean by that?

ALAINA  
_(frowns)  
_At the time, I assumed he was referring to the Tate –

_She gestures at THOMAS._

ALAINA, CONT.  
- to your plans to move to London after Christmas, but in light of all this…  
_(trails off meaningfully)_

LYNLEY  
One final question, Ms. Morrigan: what were you doing yesterday at 2am?

ALAINA  
_(grins)  
_Clubbing with my husband and a few friends – stayed till close at the Zodiac. It's a great party.

_LYNLEY's lips curve up slightly in an ironic shadow of a smile._

LYNLEY  
So I hear.


	16. Breakthrough

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. THE OLD TOM PUB – AFTERNOON.**

_HAVERS and ADELE settle with their drinks at a table._

ADELE  
_(gratefully)  
_Thanks for letting me stop for a proper meal, Sergeant. From here on out things'll only get madder, so I figure we should grab food when we can. Two hundred canapés will only go so far in a room full of hungry police.

_She chuckles, hoping to lighten the mood, but HAVERS's response is blunt and humorless._

HAVERS  
Well, we can't get into your flat till four, so we might as well sit out some of the time in someplace comfortable.

_An uneasy silence results, and ADELE attempts conversation with an apology.._

ADELE  
I'm sorry you got stuck ferrying me about, Sergeant. While I appreciate the concern, personally, I think it's taking the security a little too far –

HAVERS  
_(abruptly)  
_I don't.

_This being the first time that HAVERS has made any comment on her assignment, positive or otherwise, ADELE is stunned._

ADELE  
Really?

HAVERS  
You'll remember, McAllister and I wanted to keep you in protective custody yesterday.  
_(under her breath)  
_Still think it would've been a good idea.

ADELE  
_(lightly)  
_Why? To keep me safe or to keep me out of trouble?

_HAVERS flashes her a look._

HAVERS  
Take your pick.

ADELE  
_(sighs)  
_Sergeant –

HAVERS  
_(suddenly)  
_Why'd you buy a dress yesterday?

ADELE  
_(momentarily confused by this interrogation)  
_Sorry?

HAVERS  
_(pointedly)  
_Monsoon, Katie Bramwell, middle of the day…? Your son thought you'd lost your mind.

ADELE  
_(chuckles)  
_I can't blame him. Impulsive clothes shopping is hardly a penchant of mine.

_Her merriment fades in the face of HAVERS's keen stare._

ADELE, CONT.  
_(simply)  
_DI Lynley asked me to dinner, and I was staying at a B&B with just the clothes I had on – namely, a tracksuit. Hardly suitable for the occasion.

HAVERS  
Yeah, but you and Katie Bramwell are pretty tight. Couldn't she have just lent you something?  
_(as a realization)  
_And for that matter, why weren't you staying with her? Money's tight, you've said, so why a B&B?

ADELE  
_(answering the latter)  
_It's an unspoken – because of Kip. They'd both take me in like a shot, but…I don't want to come between them like that.

HAVERS  
_(processing this)  
_Because of Kip.

ADELE  
_(sighs)  
_Yeah. If I were any kind of clever, I'd have hooked up with him back in uni when he asked the first time.

HAVERS  
_(surprised)  
_He's asked more than once?

ADELE  
Twice – and never since Katie. The second time was when Tom and I moved back to Oxford, about ten years ago. Kip met Tom at an art show, one thing led to another, and we wound up having coffee.

HAVERS  
Did Kip know Tom's dad?

ADELE  
_(rambling in the face of HAVERS's steady gaze)  
_I-I really don't know…I mean, I didn't really know Kip that well at uni, let alone his friends, and –  
_(blurts)  
_Okay, yeah, he knew him.

HAVERS  
_(deducing)  
_So…when Kip met Tom for the first time, did he recognize him as yours or – ?

ADELE  
_(barely a whisper)  
_Probably both…You know by now that, minus the eyes, Tom looks nothing like me, so…  
_(trails off helplessly)_

_She looks away for a moment, clears her throat, and turns back to HAVERS, her expression now strangely resolute._

ADELE, CONT.  
But what I can't figure out, Sergeant, is why you persist in asking these questions, when you already –

SERVER  
Right, who had fish and chips?

_Neither HAVERS nor ADELE turn to acknowledge the friendly young man bearing their plates of food._

ADELE  
I believe it was the sergeant, sir.

_Her words seem to break the spell, and HAVERS looks up at the SERVER._

HAVERS  
Yeah, thanks.

_He sets the respective plate before HAVERS then looks at ADELE with a smile._

SERVER  
Chicken tikka masala with extra chips?

ADELE  
_(smiling up at him in reply)  
_You know it.

_He sets the plate in front of her._

SERVER  
No Tom today?

ADELE  
_(grins)  
_Nah, I'm dining in high society today – this is Detective Sergeant Havers from the Met.

SERVER  
_(perks up)  
_From the Met? This mean you're taking Tom back with you?

HAVERS  
_(ironically)  
_Probably.

_ADELE acknowledges this with a sidelong glance._

SERVER  
Hate to see him go – the other lads aren't half as good for a chat – but it's all he's talked of for ages.  
_(smiles)  
_Enjoy your meal, ladies.

HAVERS  
_(curiously, to ADELE)  
_Other lads?

ADELE  
We're close to the station; a lot of the police staff walk down for a meal and a pint at the end of a day – though Tom and I prefer this place for its proximity to Christ Church Cathedral.  
_(chuckles)  
_Chips and Evensong is our idea of the perfect night out.

HAVERS  
_(ironically but not snide)  
_What, better than dinner with an earl in a posh brasserie?

ADELE  
Infinitely. No forks to mix up.

_In spite of herself, HAVERS laughs aloud._

HAVERS  
Sorry, um…the first case I ever worked on with DI Lynley, we went to dinner at this horrible upscale hotel in Yorkshire. I think he ordered duck –

_ADELE laughs in reply, but lightly, half afraid to let her guard down in the presence of someone who is so fiercely devoted to LYNLEY._

HAVERS, CONT.  
_(caught up in her account)  
_And I was, like, what the hell am I s'posed to do with that? Give me fish and chips anyday – which, if memory serves, is what we ended up with.

_ADELE's laugh broadens as she begins to relax._

ADELE  
Why, Sergeant, I do believe we've found something in common. Does this mean you're not going to chuck me in the Thames, first chance you get?

HAVERS  
_(deeply sarcastic, though her eyes are still bright with humor)  
_Don't count on it. Anybody as gorgeous as you has no right walking 'round, making the rest of us look even worse.

ADELE  
_(genuinely)  
_What, are you mad? I'd've killed for red hair when I was Tom's age!

HAVERS  
Nice try.

ADELE  
I'm serious!

HAVERS  
What, like you haven't had a flock of blokes after you since day one?

ADELE  
_(shakes head, chuckling at the thought)  
_You know, I really haven't –

HAVERS  
You're bloody joking.

ADELE  
_(laughing; insistently)  
_I'm not! I mean, there was the odd bloke like Davey, now and again, but – never anyone decent, you know. No proper boyfriends.

HAVERS  
_(without thinking)  
_What, not even Tom's dad?

_ADELE's laughter ceases, though her smile remains._

ADELE  
Tom's dad was – an incredible fluke. I was so in love with him that I couldn't see straight, and…we just happened to fancy each other at the same brief moment in time.  
_(laughs softly)  
_I'd've probably pined away and thrown _myself_ in the Thames, if not for that.  
_(abruptly)  
_Anyway, you – we'd best get eating. We've got one more stop to make before heading home.

HAVERS  
_(puzzled)  
_What's left? We've already been to the florist, caterer, wine merchant – you called the quartet –

ADELE  
You'll see – it's just across the street.

_HAVERS levels her with a glare._

HAVERS  
If you're taking me in for a makeover, Adele, so help me –

ADELE  
_(merrily)  
_Where's the fun in that? I've already got your dress back at my flat.

_HAVERS gapes at her in consternation._

HAVERS  
You did not just say "dress."

ADELE  
_(grinning)  
_Cheer up, Sergeant. You're the one who wanted a flock of blokes chasing after you.

_HAVERS groans in dismay, making ADELE laugh once more._

**INT. POLICE CAR – AFTERNOON**

_LYNLEY and THOMAS are driving back from ALAINA's studio, discussing the conversation therein._

LYNLEY  
Ms. Morrigan's given us a pretty strong motive – the only piece we were missing.

THOMAS  
Do you buy it, sir?

LYNLEY  
I do. She'd have little enough to gain by lying – still, why don't you ring the Zodiac and confirm that she was there when she said.

THOMAS  
_(nodding)  
_I can get hold of their CCTV as well, if you'd like.

LYNLEY  
_(a little too quickly)  
_That won't be necessary. Besides, Ms. Morrigan is a distinctive individual. Something tells me society keeps a pretty close eye on her – and follows where she leads.

THOMAS  
Where to next, sir? Another chat with Lundy? Toss this new information in his face and see if he gives in?

LYNLEY  
_(thoughtfully)  
_There's one thing that still doesn't make sense to me. Lundy had a motive, access to the building, and his name all over the evidence…but what on earth would he be doing with a palette knife?

_He glances over at THOMAS, briefly looking away from the road._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
For that matter, how did he get ahold of one? How would he even _think _to? It's not the kind of thing you just dip into the newsagent's for –

THOMAS  
_(pointing out)  
_And it wasn't new.

LYNLEY  
True – you and the pathologist concurred on that. General wear to the blade's edges, I think it was, since there was neither paint nor prints to speak of?

THOMAS  
Yeah, like he'd pulled it out of someone's toolbox and cleaned it up.

LYNLEY  
But whose? And is that our potential associate – or an unwitting accessory?  
_(frowns in thought)  
_Your mum uses palette knives, and she would've been the closest at hand…Could Lundy have snuck into her flat while she was out at the florist's?

THOMAS  
_(shakes his head)  
_Maybe, sir, but the murder weapon definitely wasn't one of Mum's knives. I bought her new ones last Christmas – had her name etched into the handles. There was no identifying mark on the murder weapon.

LYNLEY  
Okay, but what happened to her old ones? Would she have thrown them out – somewhere that Lundy had access?

THOMAS  
_(with a crooked grin)  
_Hardly – she gave 'em to me. I keep 'em with my paints, up at Granddad's, for those occasions when I like to pretend I'm an artist.

LYNLEY  
_(indignantly)  
_Pretend? And did you just "pretend" to get into The Ruskin?

THOMAS  
_(startled)  
_How'd you know about that?

LYNLEY  
_(sternly, still in parental mode)  
_Your mother told me over dinner last night – and yet you chose to throw it away for the police?

THOMAS  
Police was good enough for you, sir – and for my dad.

_LYNLEY recollects himself at these words and listens patiently as THOMAS explains._

THOMAS, CONT.  
It's honest work, sir – not that painting isn't, but that's always been more a hobby for me. Maybe I never thought of it as a legitimate everyday calling because – that was something Mum was never able to do. There were always bills to pay – and doubly so after I was born – and she always had to pick up some job or other just to keep us fed.

LYNLEY  
_(sorrowfully)  
_I'm sorry, Thomas –  
_(catches himself)  
_Constable.

_THOMAS looks over at him curiously._

THOMAS  
_(quietly)  
_Actually, "Thomas" is okay – but I prefer "Tom."

LYNLEY  
_(smiling tightly)  
_I'll remember that, Constable.

_His mobile rings, and he rummages it out of a pocket to answer._

LYNLEY  
This is Lynley.

**CUT to EXT. OXFORD. STREET – AFTERNOON.**

_MCALLISTER is standing outside a newsagent's with an expression of grim satisfaction._

MCALLISTER  
Couple of news flashes for you, sir. Are you near the Galleria?

LYNLEY, O.S.  
Near enough. We can be there in five minutes.

MCALLISTER  
Go 'round south – meet me in front of the newsagent's, just opposite our phone box.

**CUT to INT. POLICE VEHICLE – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
What's the breakthrough, sir?

**CUT to EXT. OXFORD. STREET – AFTERNOON.**

MCALLISTER  
_(grimly)  
_We've got a print and a potential eyewitness – girl thinks she saw Lundy around two yesterday morning.

**CUT to INT. POLICE VEHICLE – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
We'll be right there.

**EXT. OXFORD. STREET – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY's police vehicle pulls up in front of the newsagent's where MCALLISTER is waiting with GABY, a young blonde woman, trendily dressed in lots of denim, smoking a cigarette and shivering a little at the cold. LYNLEY and THOMAS get out of the car and approach the pair._

MCALLISTER  
_(to them both  
_Thanks for coming so quickly. This is Gaby; she works in the newsagent's and lives in the flat above – Gaby, DI Lynley and DC Crawford.

GABY  
_(awkwardly)  
_Hello.

MCALLISTER  
Gaby, can you tell these gentlemen what you saw yesterday morning?

_She nods and takes a final drag on her cigarette before stamping it out._

GABY  
Right. I was visiting my boyfriend in London; he wanted me to stay over but I had to work first thing, so I caught the last train – half-past midnight, it ran, and I got back to Oxford about half-one. It took me about half an hour to walk home from the station, give or take, and as I was unlocking the door, I heard someone walking toward me. There's a streetlamp just above, so I could see him pretty well. He didn't say nothin' or come near me, even; he seemed nervous that anybody else was about and hurried past me –

_She motions north – the street leading to the Galleria._

GABY  
That way.

LYNLEY  
Was it Steven Lundy, Gaby?

MCALLISTER  
_(helpfully)  
_Bloke in the photo.

_He shows her the photograph, presumably for the second time._

GABY  
' Think so, sir…it was dark, but he had the same straggly hair, the sort of hunched-over look –

MCALLISTER  
And you said he was behaving nervously.

GABY  
Yeah. I din't think too much of it; figured he was looking for a drink or a hit or something, so I went in my flat and locked the door straightaway.

LYNLEY  
Thank you, Gaby – we won't keep you any longer.

GABY  
Cheers.

_She ducks back into the newsagent's, leaving LYNLEY, MCALLISTER, and THOMAS to discuss what they've learned._

LYNLEY  
_(to MCALLISTER)  
_Anything in the CCTV footage?

MCALLISTER  
I came across Gaby's stranger on the tape a couple minutes before Fairchild rang to say he'd spoken with Gaby. The image isn't sharp; Lundy definitely kept his face averted, but – it looks like him. The boys are seeing if they can enhance the image, but in light of an eyewitness…

THOMAS  
_(thoughtfully)  
_Two o'clock – that means she saw Lundy before his phone call to Gilchrist.

LYNLEY  
Maybe he meant to call Gilchrist then, but changed his mind because Gaby was there; he lost his nerve –  
_(at a realization)  
_Yes! This way he could go down to the Galleria, get the coveralls, ensure that there was no one about – then walk back here to make his phone call. That way, even if Gaby _did_ see him again, she might not recognize him with the change of clothing.  
_(to MCALLISTER)  
_Did the footage show anyone returning from the direction of the Galleria?

MCALLISTER  
Yes, as it happens. Again, our lad was keepin' his back to the camera and his head down, but the clothing was different – darker and indistinct, which suggests Lundy's coveralls.

LYNLEY  
_(recalling suddenly)  
_You also said you'd found a print.

MCALLISTER  
Inside the phone box, sir – on the receiver, no less. Lundy was there.

LYNLEY  
_(to THOMAS)  
_Lundy had a mobile, according to the decorator; he'd have had no reason to use the payphone unless he wanted to conceal his identity – not from Gilchrist, who'd have known it was him on the phone; that was part and parcel of Lundy's plan – but from the police. A call from Lundy's mobile to Gilchrist's at half-two would be easily traceable and immediately suspicious, but a call from a payphone requires a bit more effort.  
_(his voice rises slightly with excitement)  
_This proves that Lundy was capable of more subterfuge than anyone perceived.

MCALLISTER  
And of the murder of Davey Gilchrist, sir?

_LYNLEY looks down at his watch; it registers 3:00pm._

LYNLEY  
Let's have one last chat with Mr. Lundy. I'd love to have enhanced images from the footage before charging him, but at this point, I think it makes little difference. We'll have the DNA on the hairs from the coveralls in two days – plenty of time before Lundy goes to trial – and thanks to Alaina Morrigan, we have a motive.  
_(to MCALLISTER)  
_We'll drive you back to the station, sir, and explain on the way.

**EXT. CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL – AFTERNOON.**

_ADELE approaches the magnificent exterior, with HAVERS trailing behind in awe and a bit of confusion._

HAVERS  
Erm…you're taking me to church? I thought we had to be at the flat in an hour.

ADELE  
_(laughs delightedly)  
_You'll see.

**INT. CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL. NAVE – AFTERNOON.**

_HAVERS, gobsmacked at the silent splendor, gapes around her as ADELE catches the attention of a passing STEWARD._

STEWARD  
_(nodding respectfully)  
_How do you do, Miss Crawford?

ADELE  
Well enough, thank you. I was wondering if Father Copley might be –

FATHER COPLEY, O.S.  
Adele!

_ADELE turns in the direction of the voice with a joyous expression to see FATHER ROBERT COPLEY coming quickly toward her. He is a smallish man of seventy, bespectacled and nearly bald, but for two graying wings of hair that circle his head, and he wears a black cassock._

ADELE  
Father Copley!

FATHER COPLEY  
_(with great affection)  
_My dear girl!

_He catches her in a firm hug; the STEWARD gives a quick bob of his head and quietly leaves them._

FATHER COPLEY  
Thank God you're safe. Tom as well?

ADELE  
_(smiling)  
_Tom as well.

_FATHER COPLEY glances over her shoulder to where HAVERS is hovering, looking somewhat uncertain of what to do with herself, and gently releases ADELE to say hello._

FATHER COPLEY  
Here, what's this? New friend of yours?

ADELE  
_(grinning at HAVERS)  
_In a manner of speaking, Father. This is Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers from the Metropolitan Police; Sergeant Havers, Father Copley, one of the chaplains here at Christ Church and a dear friend of Tom's and mine.

HAVERS  
_(awkwardly)  
_Lovely to meet you, sir.

FATHER COPLEY  
_(warmly)  
_And I you, Sergeant. What brings you to our Cathedral?

ADELE  
_(slightly shamefaced)  
_Me, I'm afraid – David McAllister's assigned me a bodyguard for the duration.

FATHER COPLEY  
_(sternly)  
_I'm glad to hear it, after what happened to poor Davey Gilchrist.  
_(to HAVERS)  
_I trust you're making headway on the investigation.

HAVERS  
Yes, sir – in fact, we're hoping to charge a suspect by the end of the day.

ADELE  
That's part of the reason we've come, Father. We're reopening the gallery tonight –

FATHER COPLEY  
_(severely, to HAVERS)  
_With some of your lot about, I trust?

ADELE  
_(casually mincing details)  
_Sergeant Havers will be there, of course, with me –

_She gives HAVERS a sidewise glance to indicate that she isn't about to give the game away, even to the family priest._

ADELE, CONT.  
- as well as Tom and McAllister, and I'm sure some of Tom's mates from the station will make an appearance. Also –  
_(hesitates a moment)  
_Detective Inspector Lynley from the Met – Sergeant Havers's partner – will be around.

_FATHER COPLEY's reaction to the mention of LYNLEY is subtle; his eyes widen slightly but his manner remains calm._

FATHER COPLEY  
_(reflectively)  
_Lynley…yes, I recall him from his university days. Terribly good-looking boy – titled, if memory serves.

ADELE  
_(blushing slightly)  
_That's the one. Anyway, I know you've got evening Eucharist tonight, but I thought if you could steal a moment, perhaps you'd like to stop by?

FATHER COPLEY  
_(appalled)  
_A _moment_? My dear girl, I'll be there as soon as I can get away and will stay as long as you wish!

ADELE  
_(smiling)  
_I'd hoped as much. And Aunt Letty?

FATHER COPLEY  
She'd've been gutted if you hadn't asked. Of course; I'll collect her before Evensong and we'll go over. Shall we bring anything?  
_(grins teasingly)  
_Covered dish, perhaps?

ADELE  
_(laughing)  
_Hush – I paid good money for those canapés – twice over, now – and I refuse to have you distract all my guests away with Letty's superior cooking!

FATHER COPLEY  
_(smiling)  
_Fair enough, my dear.  
_(with a glance at HAVERS)  
_And I imagine the sergeant has somewhere else to ferry you soon, so I shall leave you for the moment.

_He gives ADELE a quick kiss on the cheek._

FATHER COPLEY  
I'll see you tonight, love.

_He retreats up the aisle toward the quire and sanctuary; ADELE turns back to HAVERS to see the troubled expression that caused FATHER COPLEY to make his departure._

ADELE  
What is it, Sergeant? I didn't think I told him too much, and he's a very close friend of the family –

HAVERS  
It's not that.  
_(sighs)  
_I met your dad yesterday, yeah? And – I'm sorry, but he's no one I'd ever want to claim as family. But this bloke –

_She gestures vaguely in the direction in which FATHER COPLEY departed._

HAVERS  
I don't get it. He's more than just your family priest, isn't he?

ADELE  
_(chuckling)  
_You're incapable of asking easy questions, aren't you, Sergeant?

HAVERS  
_(out of nowhere, startling herself)  
_Barbara.

_ADELE looks at her with surprise._

HAVERS, CONT.  
And you don't –  
_(blushing a little at ADELE's reaction)  
_- you don't need to answer that – or any of these, really…The last question I had a right to ask you was, "Where were you yesterday morning at 3am?"

ADELE  
_(softly)  
_It's okay – Barbara.  
_(smiles)  
_I've been asked most of them a hundred times before – you're just the first person I've ever felt obligated to answer. And you're right about Father Copley. He took me in – or rather, his sister Leticia did – when I ran away from Oxford to have Tom; he helped raise Tom – and me, to a certain extent. In a lot of ways, I guess you could call him my foster father.  
_(darkly)  
_He certainly filled the role better than my own dad.

HAVERS  
_(contemplatively)  
_There's a lot of resentment between you and your dad still, isn't there?

ADELE  
That's putting it mildly. I don't think we've exchanged fifty words in the ten years I've been back in Oxford.  
_(pauses a moment)  
_I'll never forget the expression on his face when he suggested we blackmail Tom's dad. He was…  
_(fumbles a moment for the right word)  
_Gleeful – almost maniacal with it. I could understand him being angry about me getting pregnant; I could even understand why he'd be angry at the father, but…He was so keen to tear down that family, or bankrupt them at the least; I think he'd forgotten the simple fact that his only child was having a baby.

_HAVERS frowns in thought and, a few moments later, her mobile rings. She takes it out but looks to ADELE for approval to answer, owing to the setting._

ADELE  
Um…go ahead. We're making our way out – and if anyone asks, I'll tell them you're police.

_HAVERS opens her mobile, eyeing the display before she answers, all the while following ADELE back out through the church._

HAVERS  
Sir. The hour approaches – what's the verdict?

**CUT to INT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY is standing outside the interview room. Through the window it can be seen that THOMAS and MCALLISTER are speaking somewhat heatedly with LUNDY._

LYNLEY  
_(with a weary smile)  
_I was rather hoping you could tell me, actually.

**CUT to INT. CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL. NARTHEX – AFTERNOON.**

_HAVERS and ADELE approach the church exit._

HAVERS  
Hey, I've missed half a day of this investigation. What's your quandary?

**CUT to INT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
We've got a definite motive – the hospital rang Lundy yesterday about his mother, but Gilchrist wouldn't let him leave early; according to Alaina Morrigan, the decorator, they had a bit of a bust-up before Lundy left, and Lundy made a remark to the decorator about Adele not having to deal with Gilchrist much longer.

HAVERS, O.S.  
Yeah, that sounds a bit sinister. Does Lundy deny it?

LYNLEY  
No – it's practically the only bit that he doesn't. We've got an eyewitness who's fairly convinced that she saw Lundy in the vicinity of the phone box at 2am, coupled with CCTV footage –

**CUT to EXT. CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL– AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
What, showing Lundy?

**CUT to INT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
Someone a lot like Lundy, who was very good about dressing nondescriptly and hiding his face. He passed the booth around 2am, walking in the direction of the Galleria, and returned from that direction at half-two in different clothing – presumably the coveralls – to make the call to Gilchrist. We've got Lundy's prints on the payphone; he claims he stopped there on his way home the night before the murder to ring the hospital and let them know he was coming.

HAVERS, O.S.  
Why not use his mobile?

LYNLEY  
_(dubiously)  
_He claims the battery was dead.

**CUT to EXT. CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL– AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
He's creating his own alibi, sir. He probably used the payphone to call the hospital, knowing his prints would show up, so that when he used the phone to call Gilchrist later – in gloves, no doubt – he could explain away his presence in the phone booth as having taken place at an earlier time and for a different purpose entirely. Anyway, phone call or not, we've got his coveralls with Gilchrist's blood on 'em; the multiple wild stabs reflect anger toward Gilchrist, which it sounds like Lundy was harboring.

**CUT to INT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
Sounds like you think he did it.

HAVERS, O.S.  
_(wondering)  
_Don't you, sir?

_LYNLEY hesitates a moment before answering._

LYNLEY  
I think there are still some aspects of the murder that we've yet to explain. The palette knife, for example –

HAVERS, O.S.  
He could've bought it –

LYNLEY  
On his way home in an angry rush?  
_(thinks a moment)  
_Okay, fair enough – but it wasn't new. The blade showed some wear, from regular use –

HAVERS, O.S.  
If he was back in Oxford by half-eleven, that's more than enough time to create false wear on the blade edge.

LYNLEY  
Of course, then there's the fact that Lundy's half the size of Gilchrist –

**CUT to EXT. CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL– AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
And adrenaline can do mad things for one's strength of arm. Think of it, sir: Lundy worked for Gilchrist for three years; that's a lot of time for resentment to accumulate. This issue with his mum was prob'ly just the icing on the cake – the impetus to spur him into action. He prob'ly didn't think it would hurt Adele in any way; prob'ly thought he was doing her a favor, actually.

_She glances around; ADELE is a courteously long earshot ahead of her._

HAVERS  
_(quietly)  
_Look, sir, I know you've taken a personal interest in this case and…you want the perfect result, for Adele's sake, if nothing else.

LYNLEY, O.S.  
_(warningly)  
_Havers –

HAVERS  
Just let me finish, all right? I like her too, sir, though God knows I didn't want to – and her son.  
_(pauses a moment; pensively)  
_And honestly – while it may not be the perfect result, sir – I think Lundy's our man.

**CUT to INT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY closes his eyes and breathes a long sigh._

LYNLEY  
Thank you, Havers – for everything.

**CUT to EXT. CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL– AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
_(grins crookedly)  
_Don't mention it. I'll see you tonight.

**CUT to INT. POLICE STATION – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY ends the call, pockets his mobile, and enters the interview room._


	17. PreShow Jitters

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. POLICE STATION. INTERVIEW ROOM – AFTERNOON.**

_MCALLISTER and LUNDY are arguing fiercely and THOMAS is observing somberly as LYNLEY enters. LUNDY's meek exhaustion of the previous day is gone, replaced by an angry flush in his cheeks. He looks half-mad, almost feral; hardly the same man._

MCALLISTER  
So you admit to being relieved at Gilchrist's death?

LUNDY  
_(much more aggressively than he has ever spoken before)  
_I'm not ashamed to say that man was a right bastard, an' the world's better off without him. But I never killed him; never laid a finger on his poncey, bloated body!

LYNLEY  
_(calmly)  
_That will be quite enough from you, Mr. Lundy.

LUNDY  
_(snidely)  
_Come to have a go at me as well, Inspector?

LYNLEY  
I'm afraid not.

_THOMAS vacates his chair, almost instinctively, and LYNLEY sits in it, beside MCALLISTER and opposite LUNDY._

LYNLEY  
Mr. Lundy, you had a row with Davey Gilchrist, a row which you neglected to mention in your interviews and which reflects your years of accumulated resentment.

LUNDY  
Yeah, what of it – ?

LYNLEY  
_(unruffled, he continues as though LUNDY had not spoken)  
_You have no alibi for the time of the murder and were, in fact, sighted by an eyewitness in the vicinity an hour before the murder took place.

LUNDY  
_(fuming)  
_It weren't me, sir, so how –

LYNLEY  
Your first reaction to news of Gilchrist's death was one of relief, though you endeavored to conceal it as concern for Adele.

LUNDY  
I _was_ concerned for her;  
_(to THOMAS, in a pleading tone)  
_Tom, lad, you know I'd never –

_LYNLEY continues relentlessly, like a litany; THOMAS holds LUNDY's gaze with white-knuckle composure but says nothing._

LYNLEY  
Perhaps most damning of all, forensics have matched the blood on your work coveralls with that of the murder victim.  
_(coldly)  
_I suggest you find an exceptional lawyer, Mr. Lundy. I'm charging you with the murder of Davey Gilchrist.

_LUNDY's ire freezes to fear as he returns LYNLEY's stare._

**INT. POLICE STATION – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_THOMAS is lingering outside the empty interview room, pale and slightly shell-shocked. LYNLEY approaches with a cup of coffee and offers it to him._

LYNLEY  
You all right, Constable?

_THOMAS takes the cup in silent gratitude and sips at its contents._

LYNLEY  
It's been awhile since I've had a suspect turn quite that vicious in the middle of an interview.

THOMAS  
_(quietly)  
_I believed it before, you know, based on the evidence, but – seeing him like that in the interview, I finally realized…that horrible, agonizing end for Davey – Lundy _was_ capable of that kind of rage, that madness…  
_(slightly stronger)  
_Don't get me wrong, sir, I've been with the force seven years; I've seen worse things by far, but…never this close to home.  
_(sighs raggedly)  
_I've suddenly got this overpowering urge to go hug my mum.

LYNLEY  
_(kindly)  
_I'm not surprised. For all that Lundy's rage was supposed to be on her behalf –

THOMAS  
_(before he can say it)  
_I know.

LYNLEY  
_(gently)  
_Listen, Constable: regardless of Lundy's murder charge, you're the only one of us without an assignment this evening. Why don't you go spend some time with your mum? We're nearly finished here, then McAllister and I will be leaving as well.

THOMAS  
_(resolute, though his eyes betray his longing to go)  
_I'd be more than willing to stay, sir, whatever needs doing.

LYNLEY  
_(smiling)  
_I know you would. That's why I rang the Met earlier today in an effort to expedite your transfer.

THOMAS  
_(stunned)  
_Sir...!

_LYNLEY's smile broadens._

LYNLEY  
No promises, mind, but from what I was told today, if you complete your competency-based interview and fitness assessment within the next week or so, you could be on the payroll by Christmas.

_THOMAS's expression, were it possible, grows_ more_ astonished._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Yes, apparently I'm not the first to call with a glowing review. I understand they've had no peace from David McAllister from the moment your application was submitted.

_He says this half over THOMAS's shoulder, as MCALLISTER approaches._

MCALLISTER  
_(gruffly proud)  
_Well, I could hardly let them take him on, thinkin' he was some nobody copper, could I?

_He claps THOMAS on the shoulder._

MCALLISTER, CONT.  
You're a brilliant officer, Tom – too brilliant for Thames Valley. I'll hate to lose you, but you'll have a better time distinguishing yourself at the Met than you ever could here. Not to mention, you and your Mum'll be high society after Rushwood sees her work tonight.

THOMAS  
_(with a nervous laugh)  
_Knock wood, Sergeant. Of course, I think she's genius, but they've got a gallery full of Waterhouse and Rossetti and Millais.

LYNLEY  
Exactly. The Tate could do with a lovely woman to shake up the Pre-Raphaelites a bit.

_THOMAS cracks a grin at that._

MCALLISTER  
_(cajoling)  
_Go on, lad. Go grab some chips for your mum before this shindig gets started.

THOMAS  
On a night when she's paid for canapés? I'll forget you made such an obscene suggestion, sir.

MCALLISTER  
_(chuckling)  
_Be off with you, lad.

LYNLEY  
We'll see you at the gallery, Constable.

_THOMAS flashes them a proper grin – definitely his first real smile since LUNDY's interview, and leaves._

MCALLISTER  
_(to LYNLEY)  
_I'll notify the lads, sir – they'll be wanting to hear how things panned out with Lundy.

LYNLEY  
Still keeping to the plan, of course?

MCALLISTER  
_(without hesitation)  
_Of course.

LYNLEY  
I'll see you at half-six, then.

_He leaves._

**EXT. POLICE STATION – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_THOMAS is walking out of the building while talking on his mobile._

THOMAS  
_(grinning)  
_Mum, where're you at?

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – ADELE'S FLAT – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_ADELE is just entering her flat, followed by HAVERS._

ADELE  
Just got in, love.

**CUT to EXT. POLICE STATION – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_THOMAS glances at his watch; it reads 4:20pm._

THOMAS  
Just _now_? What took so long?

ADELE, O.S.  
I asked Schneider and Malvern that same question.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – ADELE'S FLAT – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_ADELE tosses her handbag on the kitchen counter as HAVERS lands on the sofa._

ADELE  
They blushed and stammered and promptly disappeared, which I think translates as: "found the knicker drawer."

THOMAS, O.S.  
_(only half teasing)  
_I'll pulp them later.

_ADELE reaches into the fridge for a bottled water._

ADELE  
_You_'ll pulp them? I just lost twenty minutes of prep time, _and_ I have to dress Sergeant Havers. I'm tempted to kill them myself.

**CUT to EXT. POLICE STATION – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_THOMAS gets into a police vehicle._

THOMAS  
Oh, come on – you've still got over two hours.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – ADELE'S FLAT – LATE AFTERNOON.**

ADELE  
_(affectionately)  
_Tommy, my daft little boy, I know you and I have taken part in precious few formal events in your twenty-five years, but when a woman's getting ready for an event of this caliber, a _full day_ often wouldn't be long enough.

**CUT to INT. POLICE VEHICLE – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_THOMAS is driving through the city. _

THOMAS  
_(laughs)  
_Okay, _you_ I get – that whole goddess ensemble is bound to take a good hour to pull together – but what are you doing to the sergeant?

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – ADELE'S FLAT – LATE AFTERNOON.**

ADELE  
_(slyly, throwing HAVERS a sidewise glance)  
_Think Rossetti's Lady Lilith…with an updo.

**CUT to INT. POLICE VEHICLE – LATE AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS, O.S.  
_(distantly)  
_I heard that.

THOMAS  
_(grinning)  
_So is this the wrong time to ask if I can swing by for a bit?

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – ADELE'S FLAT – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_ADELE eyes her wall clock – it reads approximately 4:23 – while taking a swig from her water bottle._

ADELE  
_(warningly)  
_If you can get here in ten minutes, sure. Any later and I have to throw Sergeant Havers in the shower, and I refuse to have you in the flat when there's a naked female officer _anywhere_ on the premises.

HAVERS  
_(with horror that is only slightly feigned)  
_Right, what the hell are you two planning now?

**CUT to INT. POLICE VEHICLE – LATE AFTERNOON.**

THOMAS  
_(grinning again)  
_Shame. I'll see you in four.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – ADELE'S FLAT – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_ADELE laughs as she tucks her mobile back into her handbag._

HAVERS  
I really don't want to know, do I?

_HAVERS's mobile rings._

ADELE  
_(grinning)  
_That's yours, now. They must have just finished, down ' the station.

_HAVERS wrests the phone out of her pocket – the display reads "DI Lynley."_

HAVERS  
_(to ADELE)  
_Right, very funny.  
_(answering the mobile)  
_Hello, sir. How'd it go?

**CUT to EXT. POLICE STATION – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY is walking out of the building, perhaps two minutes behind THOMAS._

LYNLEY  
As well as could be expected. Lundy turned rather vicious in the final interview; Tom Crawford was a bit shook up when he left. I think he's headed in your direction.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – ADELE'S FLAT – LATE AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
Yeah, he rang a minute ago.

_She pointedly glares up at ADELE, who grins back._

HAVERS  
_(with mock-petulance)  
_I'm not allowed in the shower till he leaves.

**CUT to EXT. POLICE STATION – LATE AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
_(enjoying this entirely too much)  
_Good idea. We don't want to foster any torrid fantasies about stroppy red-haired sergeants – ahem – out of uniform.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – ADELE'S FLAT – LATE AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
_(thickly sarcastic)  
_Right, sounds a bit late for that.

**CUT to EXT. POLICE STATION – LATE AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
_(chuckles)  
_I missed this.

HAVERS, O.S.  
What?

LYNLEY  
The banter. Life's a lot less pleasant when you hate me.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – ADELE'S FLAT – LATE AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
_(practically)  
_Right, well, stop doing stupid things, and you'll never have to worry about it again.

_ADELE looks over at her in amused amazement at this remark._

**CUT to EXT. POLICE STATION – LATE AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
_(clearing his throat)  
_Yes, well, to that end: I'm on my way back to the hotel.

HAVERS, O.S.  
_(humorously)  
_Hope you're not lookin' for the Bristol.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – ADELE'S FLAT – LATE AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS, CONT.  
Del and I have some joyriding lined up at half-six. Get rid of the pre-show jitters and all.

**CUT to EXT. POLICE STATION – LATE AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
That might be the most terrifying thing you've ever said to me, Sergeant.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – ADELE'S FLAT – LATE AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
_(smiling)  
_Must be gettin' out of practice, then.

_ADELE eyes her for a moment, smiling as well, but there is a momentary sadness in her eyes as she observes the easy camaraderie between HAVERS and LYNLEY. She ducks into her bedroom as the conversation continues; HAVERS glances up at her exit but does not follow._

**CUT to EXT. POLICE STATION – LATE AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
As it happens, McAllister was kind enough to lend me a police vehicle for the duration, and I was wondering if you needed anything from the hotel before this evening.

HAVERS, O.S.  
Thank you, sir, but I'm fine.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – ADELE'S FLAT – LATE AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS, CONT.  
At this rate, I'll be lucky to wear my own knickers to the show.

_ADELE leans out of the bedroom._

ADELE  
_(impishly)  
_Who says you're wearing any? You haven't seen your outfit yet, you know.

**CUT to EXT. POLICE STATION – LATE AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
You know, Sergeant, eight years ago, this was not a conversation that I foresaw in our future.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – ADELE'S FLAT – LATE AFTERNOON.**

HAVERS  
_(teasingly)  
_Where's your imagination, sir?

**CUT to EXT. POLICE STATION – LATE AFTERNOON.**

LYNLEY  
At the moment – nowhere that I'd like to admit.  
_(smiles)  
_I'll see you tonight.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – ADELE'S FLAT – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_HAVERS closes her mobile and abandons it on the sofa as she storms – in very good humor – over to ADELE's bedroom._

HAVERS  
I'm so gonna kill you.

_ADELE grins as she bars the door._

ADELE  
Hey, they wanted you undercover.

HAVERS  
_Inconspicuous! _Small but crucial difference!

_Her plans to throttle ADELE are thwarted by a knock at the door._

HAVERS, CONT.  
_(frowning in surprise)  
_Is that your son already?

ADELE  
He's probably over the moon at the prospect of running into you here.  
_(at HAVERS's look)  
_Put it this way: the boy's major relationships thus far have been with oil paintings of women who died a hundred and fifty years ago.

HAVERS  
_(tersely)  
_Right.

_She ducks into ADELE's bedroom as ADELE goes to answer the door, calling back over her shoulder:_

ADELE  
Did I mention that most of them were redheads?

_HAVERS does not seem to know whether to grimace or chuckle at this._

ADELE  
_(addressing the door)  
_Right, assuming Schneider and Malvern let you in –

THOMAS, O.S.  
_(muffled by the wood)  
_Hi, Mum.

ADELE  
_(grins)  
_Oh, is that the password, then?

_She swings open the door, immediately assuming a stern and somber countenance._

ADELE  
Right, you've got three minutes.

_THOMAS walks into the flat and she closes the door behind him._

THOMAS  
_(mock-wounded)  
_I love you too.

ADELE  
_(smiling)  
_Oh, all, right. Come here.

_She pulls him into her arms and he hugs her back tightly, with no foreseeable intentions of letting go._

ADELE, CONT.  
_(surprised)  
_What's all this about, then?

_He draws back just enough to look into her eyes, loosening his arms around her._

THOMAS  
Nothing really, just glad to see you.

ADELE  
_(interpreting for him)  
_So: one hell of a time with Lundy.

THOMAS  
_(sighs, shaking his head)  
_You have no idea.

ADELE  
Is it over?

THOMAS  
_(quietly)  
_Yeah.

_She leans up to kiss his forehead._

ADELE  
_(tenderly)  
_Then put it out of your mind, love, at least for tonight. We're both safe, the show is back on, and with any luck Rushwood will make an appearance.

_He lowers his arms, breaking the loose embrace with a weary sigh._

THOMAS  
_(at a sudden thought)  
_Where're you staying tonight, anyway? I didn't think they'd given the all-clear to move back in here yet.

ADELE  
_(slightly evasive)  
_Well, I kept my room at Gables…

THOMAS  
Great. I'll drive you back tonight and get a fold-out bed from reception.

_ADELE frowns thoughtfully as she processes this._

ADELE  
Actually –

THOMAS  
Don't tell me it isn't necessary. It'll be a very long time before I leave you on your own for a night. And tomorrow I move out of Granddad's – for good.

ADELE  
_(carefully covering her chagrin at his previous statement)  
_As I was _going_ to say: that's a really good idea, actually. There are…some things we should discuss.

THOMAS  
_(curiously)  
_Like what?

_HAVERS ducks out of the bedroom to eavesdrop, made curious at this line of conversation, but neither of them notice her right away._

ADELE  
_(blurts)  
_Would you like to live in Islington?

THOMAS  
_(taken aback)  
_What?

_HAVERS's movement catches his eye; he glances up at her as she approaches._

THOMAS  
_(pleasantly)  
_Hello, Sergeant; come join the party. I think Mum's lost her mind.

HAVERS  
I don't know. Islington's all right, as neighborhoods go.

THOMAS  
_(to himself)  
_Right, I think it's catching.  
_(to ADELE)  
_What?

_She gives an awkward little laugh._

ADELE  
Well, I just got to thinking: I've only got another month's lease on this place, and your transfer could go through at any time. We really should start looking for a flat –

THOMAS  
Yeah, but: Islington, Mum? Can we afford that?

ADELE  
_(evasively)  
_I think so…  
_(more directly)  
_I mean, depending on how the show goes, I could get commissions; maybe sell a couple of pieces – and the Met gives you some sort of cost-of-living compensation for transferring into London, yeah?

_HAVERS chimes in._

HAVERS  
They do. It's not great, but it helps.

ADELE  
Anyway, we'll have all night to argue over boroughs. Right now –  
_(she glances pointedly at the clock)  
_- I need to toss Detective Sergeant Havers in the shower. We'll need easily an hour for the hot rollers.

_HAVERS gapes at her in horror, making THOMAS laugh outright._

THOMAS  
_(to ADELE, in deliberate third person)  
_So what'd you decide on her wearing?

HAVERS  
_(pointedly)  
_Right – insubordination. That'll go over big at the Met.

_ADELE grins up at her son, also ignoring HAVERS._

ADELE  
Hadn't given it too much thought yet, tell the truth.

_He returns her grin._

THOMAS  
Right. Back in a tick.

_He goes quickly into ADELE's bedroom._

THOMAS, O.S.  
What's your favorite color, Sergeant?

HAVERS  
Um, green…

_There is a pause in which THOMAS's rummaging in ADELE's wardrobe can be heard._

THOMAS, O.S.  
_(triumphantly)  
_Brilliant.

HAVERS  
_(calmly, to ADELE)  
_You're bloody mad, the pair of you.

_She follows THOMAS into the bedroom, ADELE tagging after her._

ADELE  
_(playfully)  
_Tom really is the lesser of two evils, you know. If I dress you up, you'll look like you got lost on the way to Madam Tussaud's.

_HAVERS stops in the bedroom doorway, surveying THOMAS's wardrobe excavations, laid neatly across the bed. None of the dresses are particularly risqué, though all are distinctly unlike anything HAVERS has ever been seen in before._

HAVERS  
_(to ADELE)  
_As opposed to what, exactly? An extra on _Hotel Babylon_?

_ADELE laughs; THOMAS, still rummaging through the wardrobe, grins over his shoulder at them._

ADELE  
_(to THOMAS, good-naturedly)  
_Right, love, that's your cue. If you want to survive till the opening of the show, you'd best leave now.

THOMAS  
_(mock-wistfully)  
_And just when things were starting to get interesting.

_He gives ADELE a quick kiss on the cheek._

THOMAS  
You're gonna be gorgeous, mum.  
_(to HAVERS, grinning)  
_And so will you, Sergeant, whether you want to or not.

HAVERS  
You gonna kiss me as well, then?

_THOMAS turns crimson._

HAVERS  
_(enjoying his discomfort far too much)  
_I mean, with Lundy charged for the murder and all, don't I owe you?

THOMAS  
_(awkwardly)  
_Right, I'll just see myself out.

_He quickly nips past HAVERS to leave the flat._

ADELE  
_(calling after him)  
_See you at seven, Tommy.

_The moment the door closes behind him, ADELE – and HAVERS – dissolve into laughter._

**INT. THE TANGLED HARE. TAPROOM – EARLY EVENING.**

_THOMAS enters through the front doors, clearly in a very good mood. The taproom is slowly filling up with diners and those grabbing a post-work pint, and CRAWFORD is behind the bar pulling said pints when he spies THOMAS._

CRAWFORD  
_(with surprise)  
_You're home early. Case wrap up already?

THOMAS  
_(with marked relief)  
_Yeah – thank God for that.

_CRAWFORD hands the pints off to two BUSINESSMEN and retrieves another pint glass._

CRAWFORD  
_(to THOMAS)  
_Same as always?

THOMAS  
Make it a half-pint – of Blackthorn. I've got plans for the evening.

_CRAWFORD looks up from swapping out the glasses._

CRAWFORD  
_(half-teasing, half-eager)  
_You meet a girl?

THOMAS  
_(chuckling)  
_Not unless you count DS Havers.

_CRAWFORD hands him the half-pint of cider._

CRAWFORD  
_(still teasing)  
_A little old for ya, don't you think?

THOMAS  
_(grins)  
_Yeah, prob'ly – anyway, we've got the go-ahead to reopen the Galleria tonight. That's where I'm headed.

_He takes the glass and slips behind the counter, heading for the stairs; CRAWFORD, startled at this news, calls after him:_

CRAWFORD  
Wait wait wait – lad! What'd you say?

_THOMAS turns back with a smile._

THOMAS  
We're reopening the Galleria tonight – canapés, quartet, and all. Stephen Rushwood from the Tate's even promised to be there.

CRAWFORD  
_(stammering)  
_But…but – what about your murderer?

THOMAS  
_(grimly)  
_Arrested and charged.

CRAWFORD  
But…already?

THOMAS  
_(laughs lightly)  
_That's what I said straightaway, isn't it?

_He turns back to the stairs._

CRAWFORD  
_(his voice is abruptly precise and cold)  
_How'd your mum's date go?

_THOMAS looks back at him in puzzlement._

THOMAS  
Well enough, I suppose. DI Lynley was instrumental in seeing the gallery reopened – even negotiated with Rushwood to ensure he make an appearance.

CRAWFORD  
_(darkly)  
_I'll bet he did. Is Lynley comin' to the gallery tonight?

THOMAS  
_(remembering his police duty; carefully)  
_I expect so. He was impressed by Mum's collection, and beings he and the sergeant are still in town, I imagine they'll stop by for a bit.

CRAWFORD  
_(tightly)  
_Right. Might have to check out this show myself.

THOMAS  
_(incredulous)  
_What – Mum's?

CRAWFORD  
_(with unexpected vehemence)  
_I put her through school, din't I? Till she dropped out to have _you_.  
_(he half-spits the word)  
_I got just as much right to be in that gallery than anyone – more, even!

_He storms back to the kitchen, leaving a puzzled and unsettled THOMAS to make his way upstairs._

**INT. ADELE'S FLAT – EARLY EVENING**

_HAVERS, in a dressing gown, her head full of hot rollers, is sitting on ADELE's bed, looking intensely contemplative as she glances between ADELE – who is wearing a dressing gown with her hair in a riot of pearl-strewn curls and meticulously applying her makeup – and a brochure in her lap. ADELE is watching her in the mirror and turns toward her suddenly._

ADELE  
Out with it. What's on your mind?

HAVERS  
_(momentarily caught off guard)  
_What? Oh – it suits you.

ADELE  
_(puzzled smile)  
_The…uh…dressing gown?

HAVERS  
No – countess.

_HAVERS demonstratively holds open the brochure, which sports a striking black and white headshot of ADELE._

HAVERS  
_(as though reading)  
_"Adele Elizabeth Crawford-Lynley, eighth countess of Asherton."

ADELE  
_(briefly panicked)  
_What, it doesn't say that?

HAVERS  
_(shoots her a wry glance)  
_May as well. All you're missin's the bleedin' tiara.

ADELE  
(_laughs lightly)  
_Countesses don't grow in the flat above the pub, Barbara. Anyway, I don't know. Somehow I think Thomas would deal better with a stroppy little redhead. Somebody who didn't adore him quite so much and wasn't afraid to say when he was being a prat.  
_(cracks an impish smile)  
_I mean, surely you've got a set of tweeds and a pony back home?

HAVERS  
_(at once flabbergasted and slightly hurt)  
_Hey, I was bein' honest!

ADELE  
_(lightly but directly)  
_So was I.  
_(pauses a moment)  
_Look, I overheard you and Thomas arguing at the station this morning, and –

HAVERS  
_(blurts, amidst a flustered, awkward blush)  
_Adele, I was totally out of order. The things I said –

ADELE  
No, actually, you were right. Thomas's behavior was completely unprofessional – but that's not what I'm talking about.  
(_pauses again, briefly)  
_Underneath all that indignation, Barbara –

HAVERS  
_(too quickly and twice as flustered)  
_I was frustrated, is all.

ADELE  
Yeah, I caught that.

_She sighs at the realization that HAVERS isn't about to admit more and changes her tack._

ADELE, CONT.  
Your good opinion matters more to me that anyone else's. You're his partner – his best friend, maybe – and even if the whole of London was toasting and fêting me, if I knew you disapproved of me – of us being together –

HAVERS  
_(almost a realization)  
_But I don't. I mean, how could I, after all you've given up for him? To have his child and –

_She breaks off suddenly and looks up at ADELE with no small measure of guilt._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Oh hell. I wasn't s'posed to know that, was I?

ADELE  
_(unsurprised; with a small, thoughtful smile)  
_You've known all along, haven't you? The moment you told me you'd met Tom – even before I knew you were Thomas's partner. I saw it in your eyes.

HAVERS  
I – had suspicions…  
_(promptly abandons this tack)  
_Sod it, your boy looks just like Lynley. Talks and acts like him too…

ADELE  
_(smiles)  
_He does…He admires him a great deal as well, which will ease things a bit when he finds out.

HAVERS  
Is _that_ what you're planning to discuss tonight?  
_(at ADELE's blush)  
_I was wondering how Islington came into the picture.

ADELE  
_(chuckling awkwardly)  
_And I'd thought telling Tom would be the easy part. As it is, I'm scared stiff – though, if all else fails, there's always this.

_She retrieves the Polaroid of YOUNG ADELE and YOUNG LYNLEY from her handbag and hands it to HAVERS – the first person to see the photo, besides ADELE, since it was taken 25 years before._

ADELE, CONT.  
_(breathless with nerves)  
_Thank God for visual aids, yeah?

_HAVERS studies the picture for a long moment_

HAVERS  
_(softly)  
_Wow.

ADELE  
_(lightly teasing)  
_Why do I get the feeling that you're remarking on the attractiveness of your boss as a kid at uni, not on the singular impossibility of him and I hooking up for an evening twenty-five years ago?

_HAVERS looks up, only slightly shamefaced at ADELE's perception._

HAVERS  
Because there's nothing impossible about you two. You're both attractive, intelligent people; you both went to Oxford. I mean, seriously, why not?

_ADELE stares at her for a long moment._

HAVERS, CONT.  
_(carefully)  
_Or…do I not want to know?

_ADELE shakes her head and settles beside HAVERS on the bed, gently taking back the photo._

ADELE  
You already do. I told you before, Thomas and I were some kind of incredible fluke. Yeah, I was gutted that we only ever had that one night, but after I found out I was pregnant with Tom, it didn't hurt quite so much…  
_(admits with a self-deprecating chuckle)  
_Most of the time, anyway. I certainly never dreamed we'd see each other again, let alone –  
_(breaks off with a ragged exhalation)  
_It terrifies me a little. I've never been so happy, and yet it could end as quickly as it began –

HAVERS  
_(softly, albeit around a lump in her throat)  
_I don't think you need to worry about that.  
_(at ADELE's look)  
_I don't think Lynley's going anywhere…  
_(trails off, reluctant to add the last bit; as though it pains her)  
_Not without you.

ADELE  
_(sorrowfully, barely a whisper)  
_I'm so sorry, Barbara.

_HAVERS abruptly brightens, pointedly changing the subject._

HAVERS  
For what? I'm about to complete my tour of duty as your bodyguard, half-naked in a roomful of constables whose idea of a thorough investigation is ransacking your knicker drawer!

_ADELE smiles, acknowledging the remark – and HAVERS's need to deviate from their previous topic._

ADELE  
But have you decided on your dress yet?

_HAVERS grimaces as she gets up and crosses to the wardrobe, on the front of which hang ADELE's frothy white gown and the three dresses, two green and one black, that THOMAS selected earlier._

HAVERS  
This pains me more than you will ever know, but: in lieu of you owning any dress trousers…

_She takes down a halter-neck (essentially backless) dress in dark emerald green with a filmy handkerchief skirt and copious tasteful embellishments tracing the neckline and bodice. She holds the dress up to herself dubiously and looks at ADELE._

HAVERS  
_(suddenly awkward)  
_This one?

ADELE  
_(smiling warmly)  
_My thoughts exactly.


	18. Unexpected Further Developments

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EARLY EVENING.**

_The gallery is truly a hive of activity with a half-hour remaining before the opening. The BAROQUE QUARTET of university students, all in conservative black, is assembled on one end, tuning their period instruments; the CATERER and WINE MERCHANT are filling adjacent tulle-trimmed tables along one side of the gallery, amidst hopeful glances from CONSTABLES ROTHEBY and CLARK (both in their early 20s and wearing jacket-and-tie); and the FLORIST, aided by MCALLISTER (himself seemingly undercover in an almost bohemian get-up of varying blacks), is distributing arrangements of white roses, ivy, and curly willow sprigs at regular intervals throughout the room. _

_CONSTABLE SEVERN enters from the rear end of the gallery and goes quickly to MCALLISTER._

SEVERN  
We have a bit of a problem, sir.

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA. FOYER – EARLY EVENING.**

_MCALLISTER and SEVERN are standing silently in the gallery doorway between the foyer and the gallery, from which they can clearly see the CROWD assembling excitedly outside the front doors of the Galleria. CONSTABLE SCHNEIDER, who is currently meant to be guarding the door and later ushering in guests, is huddled into the shadows to one side of the glass doors, brochures in hand. (Slightly younger than ROTHEBY and CLARK, he is dressed trendily for clubbing.) _

SEVERN  
_(quietly, to MCALLISTER)  
_There's a few 'round the back as well, sir. Malvern's keepin' an eye.

_They turn and move back into the gallery._

MCALLISTER  
_(contemplatively)  
_Press?

SEVERN  
Looks like it – and more than a few passersby, no doubt, who stopped to see what all the fuss was about.

_When MCALLISTER does not respond to this, he adds:_

SEVERN, CONT.  
Fairchild and Gregory'll be here any minute, sir; not that we can't let them in, under pretense of having something to do with the show, but…well, judging by the crowd out front, I'm half afraid of a mob. Not to mention –

MCALLISTER  
_(answering for him)  
_The last thing we want is a crowd of press sniffing out the police situation.  
_(nods briskly)  
_Go check on Del and DS Havers; see how close they are to ready. I'm gonna call DI Lynley on this one.

_SEVERN heads out of the gallery and MCALLISTER takes out his mobile, dialing LYNLEY's number._

**CUT to INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S ROOM – EARLY EVENING.**

_LYNLEY is pulling on his coat when his mobile rings, inside his suit jacket, and he draws it out to answer. He is wearing a sharply tailored black jacket over a black oxford, unbuttoned at the collar, and black trousers and looks, if it's possible, even more attractive than he did the previous evening._

LYNLEY  
Lynley.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EARLY EVENING.**

MCALLISTER  
Got a bit of a situation, sir.

**CUT to INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S ROOM – EARLY EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
_(quickly)  
_Is Adele all right?

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EARLY EVENING.**

MCALLISTER  
_(chuckling)  
_'Course she is – as if your dragon of a sergeant would let anyone near her, short of God Himself.

**CUT to INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S ROOM – EARLY EVENING.**

_LYNLEY smiles with relief._

MCALLISTER, O.S.  
Would you believe: I went up earlier to let 'em know I'd arrived and she never even opened the door.

LYNLEY  
Probably preserving the innocence of your eyes, Sergeant. What's the situation?

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EARLY EVENING.**

MCALLISTER  
_(glancing back toward the entrance)  
_Press – and lots of 'em, judging by appearances. We've got a crowd out front and it's just half-six.

**CUT to INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S ROOM – EARLY EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
_(frowning)  
_Who've you got for staff?

MCALLISTER, O.S.  
_(reluctantly)  
_We hadn't planned for this, sir – expected if there was a crowd, it'd be later, and nowhere near this keen.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EARLY EVENING.**

MCALLISTER  
At the moment, there's Constables Schneider and Malvern, Rotheby, Clark, and Severn, your sergeant and myself. DCs Fairchild and Gregory are expected any minute, and the rest were told to come anytime before half-seven –

**CUT to INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S ROOM – EARLY EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
_(mentally calculating)  
_How soon could you open – if you had to?

MCALLISTER, O.S.  
Judging by the caterer: ten, fifteen minutes, maybe? Severn's checkin' on Del and DS Havers, but –

LYNLEY  
There's no need for Adele to arrive any sooner than seven. Tell them not to rush.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EARLY EVENING.**

MCALLISTER  
And for the rest of us?

_He eyes the growing crowd outside the front doors._

**CUT to INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S ROOM – EARLY EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
Ring the rest of your staff and get them to the gallery immediately – albeit inconspicuous, as part of the crowd. I can be there in ten minutes and will ring you with any further instructions when I arrive; in the meantime, stall opening the doors as long as you can. If the crowd grows too restless, let them in – the last thing we need is a mob scene – but under no circumstances is anyone to mention Adele's police protection.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EARLY EVENING.**

MCALLISTER  
Of course, sir. Anything else?

**CUT to INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S ROOM – EARLY EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
_(dryly)  
_Yes – have the caterer call out for more canapés.

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT – EARLY EVENING.**

_CRAWFORD opens the door to the flat and walks in. After ascertaining, by the sound of water, that THOMAS is in the shower, he goes to his own bedroom and opens his closet, from which he draws out a threadbare tweed jacket. He pulls this on with painstaking care over his worn button-down shirt, methodically fastens the buttons, and retrieves a comb from his tiny dresser nearby to lay the grizzled gray straggles of his hair more evenly. The scene is at once startlingly tender (because of the care CRAWFORD takes in his appearance this night) yet also strangely unsettling (for the same reason)…_

**EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EARLY EVENING.**

_LYNLEY leaves his surreptitiously parked police vehicle to approach the CROWD, collectively shivering against the wind at the front doors of the Galleria. While the group is clearly keeping calm, an air of impatient anticipation hangs about them, as though they could burst at any moment. As LYNLEY draws closer a YOUNG MAN, about 20, turns to remark to him:_

YOUNG MAN  
It's no use, sir. Might as well wait in your car; we'll be another quarter of an hour, at least.

_LYNLEY smiles in reply._

LYNLEY  
It's no bother.  
_(unable to resist)  
_I hear this show is really something.

YOUNG MAN  
_(huffs)  
_It better be. Dr. Edenton chased us all down here tonight; said we'd each turn in an essay on the exhibition first thing tomorrow or he'd know the reason why.

LYNLEY  
_(thinking aloud)  
_Edenton…you must be from The Ruskin.

YOUNG MAN  
Yeah, there's a fair bunch of us here already. I guess Edenton took a shine to this Adele Crawford back in the day; she left after a term, but he still says she's one of the most talented artists he's ever met.

LYNLEY  
_(barely restraining a grin of pride as he prompts)  
_I heard there was some press interest in this exhibition.

YOUNG MAN  
_(snorts)  
_That's putting it mildly. There was interest enough to begin with – _Oxford Times_, a short piece in our uni paper, that sort of thing – but what with the murder, everybody wants a piece of the action.  
_(conspiratorially)  
_There's a couple blokes from _The Sun_ just ahead of us; I heard 'em talking. Supposedly this artist is a real stunner; they're sure there's some sort of sex scandal involved.

LYNLEY  
_(appalled)  
_What, just because she's attractive?

YOUNG MAN  
_(shrugs)  
_Well, you know _The Sun_. She looked pretty enough in that shot from the _Times_, but I'll lay you a fiver the blokes take one look around that gallery before turning tail to chase some celebrity skirt.

LYNLEY  
_(in a low voice)  
_Let's hope you're right. Excuse me a moment, will you?

_The YOUNG MAN shrugs and LYNLEY breaks from the crowd, taking out his mobile to ring MCALLISTER._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

_MCALLISTER, walking the length of the fully assembled gallery, answers his mobile._

MCALLISTER  
How's the weather, sir? Natives getting' restless?

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
Not as such. I hear through the grapevine that we've got tabloids.

MCALLISTER, O.S.  
No surprise there.

LYNLEY  
Still – I think it best if we get them in and out again as quickly as possible.

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

MCALLISTER  
_(curiously)  
_You got somethin' to hide, sir?

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
_(sharply)  
_What are you implying, Sergeant?

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

MCALLISTER  
Nothin', sir, nothin' at all. I just thought…maybe you knew somethin' about Adele that she wouldn't want leaked to the press, is all.

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
_(caustically)  
_And how would I, Sergeant, considering the brevity of our acquaintance?

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

MCALLISTER  
_(placating)  
_You wouldn't, sir – of course, sir.  
_(carefully changing the subject)  
_So, what's the verdict on the crowd? We're ready to open immediately if you think it's necessary; Malvern sent the back door crowd round to your side, and Fairchild and Gregory just came in a few minutes ago. I've rung everyone but DC Crawford; I expect him at any moment, but I'll ring him in a moment with an update on the crowd, just in case.

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
_(thoughtfully)  
_Let them wait. It's only – what, ten minutes to go now? – and a little delayed gratification never hurt anyone. This doesn't strike me as a rioting crowd, though I have to say, I'm especially glad we have police on site. Who've you got on the front doors?

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

MCALLISTER  
Schneider – one of my younger constables, posin' as an usher – but I can pull in Fairchild and Severn as well when we open the floodgates, for traffic control, if nothing else.  
_(pensively)  
_Are we lookin' for anything else, sir? I mean: the boys still have their orders and'll stick by 'em, but with Lundy charged –

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
_(resolutely)  
_I won't rule out the possibility of an associate till this night is over, with Adele safe and sound.

_His eyes flicker up to a lighted window on the upper level of the building, where ADELE peers down at the assembly. The distance is such that he cannot see her clearly, nor know of a certain if she's seen him, but he expeditiously ends his call:_

LYNLEY, CONT.  
I'll keep you posted on any further developments.

_He ends the call and quickly enters another number, continuing to look up at the window as discreetly as possible. New arrivals to the CROWD pass behind him to join the throng under the awning._

**CUT to INT. ADELE'S FLAT – EVENING.**

_ADELE, fully dressed in her white gown and accoutrements (though not much is made of it at this moment), is standing at the window at the far end of her flat, fascinated by the milling CROWD below, when HAVERS, out of sight, calls to her:_

HAVERS, O.S.  
Mobile. Want me to get it?

_ADELE crosses to grab her ringing mobile off the coffee table._

ADELE  
Nah, I'm good –

_She glances in the direction of the bathroom._

ADELE, CONT.  
_(exasperated)  
_- and for God's sake, stop fussing with your hair!

HAVERS, O.S.  
_(distressed)  
_I can't help it; it's – everywhere!

_ADELE, laughing merrily at HAVERS's predicament, answers her mobile:_

ADELE  
Hello?

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

_LYNLEY visibly brightens at the sound of her voice, though he endeavors to keep this out of his tone._

LYNLEY  
_(severely)  
_Are you aware, Miss Crawford, that there are tabloid reporters in this mob awaiting you?

**CUT to INT. ADELE'S FLAT – EVENING.**

_ADELE laughs – the sound of his voice only elevates her already delighted mood – and crosses back to the window. It takes her a matter of seconds to locate him._

ADELE  
_(grinning)  
_Well, you did promise as much, if memory serves. Murder, mayhem – how'd you expect to keep 'em away?

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
Actually, there's a rumor running about that you're simply too attractive _not_ to be embroiled in a sex scandal, somehow.

**CUT to INT. ADELE'S FLAT – EVENING.**

_ADELE only laughs the more at that._

ADELE  
I don't know which notion is more ridiculous: the scandal or me being universally perceived as attractive –

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
_(slightly breathless)  
_Oh shut it.

**CUT to INT. ADELE'S FLAT – EVENING.**

_ADELE laughs again – but raggedly._

ADELE  
I know. I love you too.

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

_LYNLEY's gaze on the window ceases to be surreptitious; he gazes up at her, illuminated against the glass._

LYNLEY  
_(hushed)  
_You look amazing.

**CUT to INT. ADELE'S FLAT – EVENING.**

_ADELE ducks away from the window, herself now breathless and somewhat discomfited by his praise._

ADELE  
It's just a trick of the light.

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
_(softly)  
_No, it isn't. And I can't wait to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.

HAVERS, O.S.  
_(distantly, as she is still across the flat from ADELE)  
_Are you two gonna be done anytime soon?

**CUT to INT. ADELE'S FLAT – EVENING.**

HAVERS, O.S., CONT.  
_(slightly louder)  
_It's just, I'm gonna need our last ten minutes to get down the stairs in these shoes.

_ADELE laughs outright._

**CUT to EXT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

LYNLEY  
_(with no small concern)  
_Adele, what have you done to my sergeant?

ADELE, O.S.  
_(through her laughter)  
_Good things only, I promise – but you'll have to wait and see.

LYNLEY  
I love you.

**CUT to INT. ADELE'S FLAT – EVENING.**

_ADELE, stunned into somberness by this first real declaration, moves back to the window to look down at him for a long, trembling moment._

ADELE  
_(softly)  
_I love you too.

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. THOMAS'S BEDROOM – EVENING.**

_THOMAS, his hair slightly damp from the shower, is in his bedroom in his best black trousers and a t-shirt, pulling a crisp white oxford off a hanger in his closet when he hears the flat door open and close._

THOMAS  
Granddad?

_He opens his bedroom door and peers out into the living room; CRAWFORD is nowhere in sight. Frowning, THOMAS ducks back into his room to slip on the shirt and button it, save for the top two buttons. This being done, he drinks the last tepid sip of cider from his half-pint glass and unthinkingly reaches toward his nightstand for his keys – which are exactly where they're supposed to be. Startled, he picks them up; there's nothing unusual about their appearance, but his breath accelerates a little as he looks them over – then he abruptly leaves the bedroom and runs through the flat, leaving the door open as he hurries down the stairs to the kitchen._

**INT. THE TANGLED HARE. KITCHEN – EVENING.**

_THOMAS arrives at the kitchen doorway and glances about the room in carefully controlled panic._

THOMAS  
Granddad?

_A SERVER looks up at his arrival._

SERVER  
Ducked out for a minute – some business uptown, he said. Def'nitely dressed for town, he was – jacket an' all.

_THOMAS's worry begins to escalate._

THOMAS  
Did he say where he was going?

SERVER  
You'd think he would. Middle of the evenin' rush and he has to run off for a bit –  
_(hastily respectful)  
_Beggin' your pardon, Tom.

THOMAS  
When did he leave?

SERVER  
Just a minute ago – maybe two. Thought I heard his car; he must've been goin' a ways.

THOMAS  
Thanks.

_He hurries back up to the flat._

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. THOMAS'S BEDROOM – EVENING.**

_THOMAS retrieves a black suit jacket off the end of his bed and pulls it on thoughtlessly, addressing himself in the mirror._

THOMAS  
_(sternly)  
_Stop it. He probably found the keys on the floor somewhere and put 'em back.

_He frowns at his reflection._

THOMAS, CONT.  
Yeah, maybe.

_He leaves the bedroom and is crossing through the living room when he stops to retrieve his coat from the arm of the sofa and glances slowly over at his painting supplies on the table. He draws a slow breath, then rushes over to rummage through the box, pulling out paint tubes and setting them aside as he seeks the item he desperately hopes is still there. The last item remaining, however, is the flat-handled palette knife, and as he picks it up, previous snatches of dialogue are cobbled together his head:_

THOMAS, V.O.  
This palette knife isn't new, but the killer went to a hell of a lot of trouble to make it look that way…like he'd pulled it out of someone's toolbox and cleaned it up…Any painter's likely to have one; I'm a mere hobby artist and I own two – Mum's cast-offs…she gave 'em to me. I keep 'em with my paints, up at Granddad's…

HAVERS, V.O.  
Who knew you had keys to your mum's?

THOMAS, V.O.  
Granddad, of course…

LYNLEY, V.O.  
Was it Steven Lundy, Gaby?

GABY, V.O.  
' Think so, sir…it was dark, but he had the same straggly hair, the sort of hunched-over look –

_An image of CRAWFORD – grizzled and just similar enough to LUNDY to be mistaken for him in the dark at 2am – flashes through THOMAS's mind._

THOMAS  
_(in sudden, horrified realization)  
_Oh my God.

_He drops the knife in the box and runs out of the flat._


	19. Rushwood

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. POLICE VEHICLE – EVENING.**

_THOMAS gets into the car, hastily fastens his safety belt, starts the engine – and his mobile rings._

THOMAS  
Sir – !

_It is more an exclamation than a query, thanks to the Caller ID._

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

MCALLISTER_ is gravitating toward the front doors of the gallery in preparation for the opening._

MCALLISTER, CONT.  
Tom - just wanted to give you a heads-up, lad, there's been a crowd out front since half-six, and press among 'em. Figured you were on your way, but –

**CUT to INT. POLICE VEHICLE – EVENING.**

_THOMAS starts the vehicle and reverses it._

THOMAS  
I am, sir, and – I'm afraid there's something rather urgent I need to discuss with you.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

MCALLISTER  
_(frowning)  
_How'd you mean, urgent?

**CUT to INT. POLICE VEHICLE – EVENING.**

_THOMAS, now driving down the street, winces at the ridiculousness of what he's about to suggest._

THOMAS  
I think we charged the wrong man, sir.

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

MCALLISTER  
Hold it, lad – I trust your intuitions and all, but even _you_ agreed on Lundy.

**CUT to INT. POLICE VEHICLE – EVENING.**

THOMAS  
_(awkwardly)  
_I know, sir – and it's a bit mad, but –

**CUT to INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

MCALLISTER  
_(reassuringly)  
_But your mother's gallery is reopening the day after Davey Gilchrist was killed there. Even with all the police on site, you're bound to have misgivings.

THOMAS, O.S.  
_(frustrated)  
_It's more than that, sir –

MCALLISTER  
_(sharply)  
_More? How d'you mean – you have evidence?

THOMAS, O.S.  
Not – as such, but –

MCALLISTER  
Listen, lad, I'll be more than happy to hear it all when you get here, but for now I'm trying to redistribute my entire team to keep watch over a crowd twice the size of what we planned for. Your mum'll never be out of reach, let alone sight, of one of us.

THOMAS, O.S.  
But –

_MCALLISTER glances between the front doors and his watch, which reads 7:00 sharp._

MCALLISTER  
I'm sorry, lad; I have to go. Find me first thing when you get here and you can tell me all about it.

_He ends the call._

**CUT to INT. POLICE VEHICLE – EVENING.**

_THOMAS snaps his mobile shut, growling in frustration, and curses under his breath as he drives on._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

_The gallery is now filled nearly to capacity with the CROWD, which includes PHOTOGRAPHERS, REPORTERS, STUDENTS, and the like, frankly eyeing the paintings and remarking on them, as well as the exquisite environment. The BAROQUE ENSEMBLE is playing some manner of stately pavane while the caterer and wine merchant do a roaring trade in victuals. In and amongst these are the POLICE STAFF, indiscernible from the rest of the CROWD, save for their carefully keen expressions as they contemplate the persons around them and silently eavesdrop on conversations. None have forgotten their purpose in being present at this event._

_In the midst of this LYNLEY maneuvers his way suavely through the crowd, nodding here and there and murmuring greetings. His eyes sweep the room for ADELE; not spotting her he turns to make his way toward the wine bar and nearly collides with a pixie-curled redhead in a backless cocktail dress – a.k.a. the newly prettified HAVERS._

LYNLEY  
I beg your pardon, miss…Havers!

_He assesses her appearance in a slow, head-to-foot glance. ADELE is clearly as much a maestro with the human appearance as she is with paints and canvas; HAVERS looks gobsmackingly gorgeous. Her hair, a confection of curls, is glossy and somehow more vibrantly red, and her makeup, while artful (pearlescent greens and blues to grant a fay slant to her eyes), is not garish. The emerald halter dress that she chose under duress fits like a dream, and her shoes are sparkly, high-heeled, and eminently impractical. She looks, in short, like someone who would not be out of place on LYNLEY's arm at a social event – and LYNLEY's next remark, however sarcastic, conveys that he's taken this into account._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
My God, I could actually take you places!

HAVERS  
_(not offended, with fellow wryness)  
_Yeah, don't get your hopes up. This –

_She fluffs a hand through her curls in an unladylike gesture._

HAVERS, CONT.  
- washes out in the morning, and the dress goes back to your girlfriend.

_LYNLEY gives her a look halfway between a grimace and a snarl._

HAVERS  
_(apologetic but direct)  
_Sorry, sir, um…what were _you_ plannin' on callin' her?

LYNLEY  
_(a bit dumbstruck by this observation)  
_Adele, I suppose – until a better term presents itself.

HAVERS  
_(abruptly shamefaced)  
_Sorry, sir – not my business.

LYNLEY  
No, it is – it will be. You were right; people will ask questions, of you more than anyone.

HAVERS  
_(fairly, lowering her voice)  
_And what am I to tell them, sir?

_LYNLEY pauses a moment, contemplating her expression, before replying:_

LYNLEY  
There's nothing I can say to make this acceptable to you, is there?

HAVERS  
I don't know. Might surprise yourself, if you give it half a try…  
_(prompts, in spite of herself)  
_Start with the part where you love her.

LYNLEY  
I do…

_Though he has said as much to HAVERS already, still he seems genuinely surprised by the admission._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Odd, that. We barely knew each other before – I mean, we got on, but…I never really thought of her, not for years…and suddenly she reappears, in the middle of a murder investigation, and it's plain as day. I can't imagine spending another moment of my life without her.

HAVERS  
Well, I'm sure her son might –

_She breaks off just short of making an incriminating reference to THOMAS CRAWFORD to glance around LYNLEY and clear her throat pointedly._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Erm, speakin' of Adele, sir: she's cleaned up a bit herself. Daresay you could take her more places than me.

_LYNLEY turns to see ADELE gliding through the gallery, mid conversation with a REPORTER and laughing genuinely at some remark. She is an absolute vision in a strapless white gown with a boned and heavily embroidered bodice, complete with little pearl swags stemming from the bodice to loosely drape her upper arms, and a diaphanous overlay on the full skirt. Her black hair is a mass of loose curls, threaded through with seed pearls; she looks a perfect fairy queen – versus HAVERS, who suddenly looks like a mere 21__st__ century reinterpretation of the real thing. The exchange of police surveillance is so seamless as to seem choreographed: as she and the REPORTER walk past the BAROQUE QUARTET, CONSTABLE GREGORY, who is walking nonchalantly behind her, exchanges glances with ROTHEBY, who is diagonal to ADELE. He smoothly steps in line to take over the watch, while giving every appearance of conversing with CLARK._

_If LYNLEY were not a peer with composure bred into every line of his body, he would be slack-jawed and salivating at the sight of ADELE, and HAVERS, being every bit as perceptive as ADELE suspected of her, realizes this at once._

HAVERS, CONT.  
_(tactfully)  
_I'll leave you to it, then.

_She takes a glass of wine from the table and begins to walk away when she pauses to catch LYNLEY's arm with her free hand._

HAVERS, CONT.  
_(quietly, not quite meeting his eyes)  
_I meant it, sir – what I said this morning. I'll defend you to the death, but there's not a lot I can do if the two of you show up on the cover of _The Sun _tomorrow_._

LYNLEY  
I'll keep that in mind.  
_(softly)  
_And all teasing aside…Barbara…

_She looks up, completely caught off-guard by the unfamiliar sound of her name on his lips._

LYNLEY  
You look absolutely incredible.

_Slightly shaken by the compliment, HAVERS attempts an awkward reply:_

HAVERS  
Um…you know you don't have to compliment me, sir.  
_(attempting levity)  
_God knows, I had your back long before you did anything of the kind.

LYNLEY  
I know, more's the pity…

_His hand settles briefly over her hand on his arm._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(strangely ardent)  
_I can never thank you enough for this.

_Made even more awkward by this remark, HAVERS endeavors to shrug it off._

HAVERS  
'S okay, don't worry about it…

_She looks away for a moment, as though she's about to pull her hand free and walk away, then turns back to LYNLEY and admits, as though the words forced themselves from her throat:_

HAVERS  
For what it's worth, sir, you look – incredible –  
_(the word is foreign on her tongue)  
_- too.

_They eye each other for a long and very interesting moment, HAVERS evasively and LYNLEY contemplatively – almost as though, for a split second, he sees her as an attractive woman with feelings that he reciprocates. And then the moment passes. _

HAVERS, CONT.  
I – excuse me, sir.

_She draws her hand free and turns away into the crowd; LYNLEY does the same in the opposite direction, heading more or less toward ADELE when a voice behind him catches his attention._

RUSHWOOD, O.S.  
_(declaratively – not too loudly, but unconcerned with who might overhear)  
_I must say, Lord Asherton, when you referenced the Turner Prize, this was neither the sort of work nor the artist I had envisioned.

_LYNLEY turns to see RUSHWOOD standing behind him, dressed as impeccably and expensively as the night before. Though LYNLEY has never met him before, he recognizes him at once from the remark._

LYNLEY  
_(diplomatically)  
_And are you disappointed in either, Mr. Rushwood?

_RUSHWOOD laughs, the careful sort of you-won't-catch-me-as-easily-as-that laughter._

RUSHWOOD  
I must say, the scans forwarded by Gilchrist hardly do justice to the originals; neither too did his description of Miss Crawford.

_LYNLEY manages not to bristle at this._

LYNLEY  
_(with every ounce of his well-bred courtesy)  
_Have you met, sir? It would be my pleasure to oblige you with an introduction.

RUSHWOOD  
_(nonchalantly)  
_Oh, why not? I've dinner reservations at eight. Best get business out of the way as swiftly as possible.

_Concealing his distaste for the man with faultless composure, LYNLEY turns to lead RUSHWOOD the short distance to where ADELE is ending her conversation with the REPORTER._

LYNLEY  
Excuse me, Miss Crawford?

_She turns from the REPORTER to look up at LYNLEY, herself perfectly composed – despite this being her first face-to-face meeting with him in many long hours – and utterly breathtaking._

ADELE  
Lord Asherton. I'd heard you were in town.

_She rests her hands on his forearms and leans up to brush a feather-light kiss on his cheek – a posh greeting borrowed to permit gratuitous physical contact in this very public arena. It leaves neither of them inwardly unshaken, though both carefully conceal this from RUSHWOOD._

ADELE, CONT.  
_(with the utmost decorum, pleasantly emotionless)  
_You look absolutely stunning.

LYNLEY  
_(similarly, albeit with a warmth that he cannot quite keep out of his voice)  
_As do you. May I introduce Stephen Rushwood of the Tate Britain?

_Her eyes widen imperceptibly but her composure remains with nary a ruffle_.

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Mr. Rushwood, the artist Adele Crawford; Miss Crawford, Stephen Rushwood.

_She gives her hand elegantly to RUSHWOOD, who, despite his earlier perceived disinterest, appears instantly enchanted._

ADELE  
Mr. Rushwood. Davey Gilchrist spoke often of your conversations. He would be pleased that you were able to attend, despite the terrible circumstances.

RUSHWOOD  
_(genuinely, as though ADELE penetrated his defenses where LYNLEY could not)  
_I admit to being – rather dubious of his glowing accounts of your talent, ma'am, but in light of this exhibition, I fear I am the one to look the fool.

_LYNLEY silently excuses himself from the conversation and turns directly into a conversation with the REPORTER who had been speaking with ADELE. He is young, perhaps early 20s, and, despite his earnestness, does not appear to be the cleverest straw in the stack._

REPORTER  
Excuse me – Lord Asherton, is it? You appear to be on somewhat familiar terms with Adele Crawford –

LYNLEY  
_(with an answer at the ready)  
_Yes, we met at university and have remained casual acquaintances ever since.

REPORTER  
_(with evident disappointment)  
_Casual acquaintances…From all accounts, she sounds a right paragon.  
_(hopefully)  
_Surely you've some anecdote, sir – some memory to show the British populace that she's a mere mortal like the rest?

ALAINA MORRIGAN, O.S.  
_(lightly)  
_Don't badger the earl, love.

_LYNLEY and the REPORTER both turn to look at her. ALAINA is pristinely turned out in haute couture cocktail wear, with her red hair upswept in an artfully careless chignon, and she smiles pityingly at the REPORTER._

ALAINA, CONT.  
Not only is it terrifically bad form, but Del and I have been friends nearly a decade now, and she really _is_ a paragon.

_Her smile widens brilliantly and she hands him a business card._

ALAINA, CONT.  
Alaina Morrigan, decorator. Do look me up when you get round to compiling your personal profile on Adele, will you?

_Clever enough to recognize a dismissal, the REPORTER, now quite hangdog in expression, takes his leave._

REPORTER  
Yes, ma'am – my lord.

_He quickly departs in search of a more receptive interviewee; ALAINA turns to LYNLEY with a slightly rueful expression._

ALAINA  
Sorry for putting my nose in; I couldn't resist.

LYNLEY  
_(gratefully)  
_Not at all.

ALAINA  
_(curiously)  
_I had no idea you and Del had known each other so long – or was that simply lending a gilt edge for the press's benefit?

_Her question is innocent enough and as such, does not trigger a defensive response; she gets a version slightly closer to the truth._

LYNLEY  
Not as such; we knew each other briefly in our university days and met up again, quite by accident, in the course of the Gilchrist investigation.

ALAINA  
_(thinking aloud, she smiles)  
_An acquaintance you were glad to renew, I think?

_LYNLEY, noting no suspicion in either her query or her expression, smiles in reply.  
_

LYNLEY  
Indeed. She's a most remarkable woman.

ALAINA  
_(as though this remark jarred a query, she changes the subject)  
_Speaking of which – I saw her a moment ago with a man sporting some serious Bond Street tailoring. Is that our long-awaited visitor?

LYNLEY  
_(nods)  
_Stephen Rushwood. Speaking of gilding –  
_(winces)  
_I may have endeavored to entice him here with a remark in regard to the Turner Prize.

ALAINA  
_(dismissively)  
_As if Davey didn't say as much – more even – in his alleged _months_ of begging Rushwood to come up for the show. And anyway, you never know; it wouldn't hurt for the most controversial exhibit on next year's shortlist to be a collection that actually looks like art.

_They both chuckle, of a like mind on this subject._

ALAINA, CONT.  
Anyway, I hope you'll excuse me. The moment Rushwood is free I intend to pounce – all innocent smiles, of course – with my Burne-Jones fresco story.  
_(grins impishly)  
_I brought a few photos, just in case.

_She glides seamlessly into the crowd._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – LATER.**

_Unremarked by anyone, JOHN CRAWFORD, dressed in his threadbare suit jacket with his hair slicked back, is walking self-consciously along one wall, staring up at the paintings. ADELE, who appears to have just left RUSHWOOD before a particular painting, spots and crosses to CRAWFORD, at once furious and mortified._

ADELE  
_(almost a hiss)  
_What the hell are you _doing_ here?

_CRAWFORD gives her a sad, almost penitent smile._

CRAWFORD  
Can't I come to see my daughter's exhibition?

ADELE  
_(shortly)  
_You didn't care that much yesterday. In fact, you seemed right keen about it being postponed –

CRAWFORD  
Can't an old man change his mind?  
_(a little softer)  
_Change his ways?

_She scoffs and begins to walk away._

CRAWFORD, CONT.  
_(pleadingly)  
_Del –

_She turns back to mutter hotly, because of the press proximity:_

ADELE  
Have your look and be gone. You'll not hear gratitude from me.

_She returns expeditiously into the thick of the crowd. CRAWFORD looks after her with a genuinely wounded expression; RUSHWOOD, who is lingering a short ways down the display wall, notes this (though not the particulars of the conversation) and approaches him._

RUSHWOOD  
Don't take it personally, sir; Ms. Crawford's got a great deal on her mind this evening.

CRAWFORD  
_(conceding this much)  
_So she does. You from around here, sir?

RUSHWOOD  
London, as it were.  
_(winks)  
_Tate Britain, if you must know. We've had our eye on Adele Crawford for some time now.

CRAWFORD  
Really?  
_(clears his throat with a gulp)  
_I mean, that's good, is it?

RUSHWOOD  
_(smiling)  
_Very good, for Ms. Crawford and her career. Excuse me.

_He walks away, leaving CRAWFORD to his dazed thoughts._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

_ADELE crosses gracefully to HAVERS, who has returned to linger around the wine table, and remarks:_

ADELE  
Right, that was bizarre.

HAVERS  
What?

ADELE  
_(expressionlessly, as though she has no feelings to convey the strangeness)  
_My dad's here. Wandering around, looking at the paintings as if he _cared._

HAVERS  
_(frowning)  
_That _is_ odd. You think your son invited him – make amends, that sort of thing?

ADELE  
Not likely – and anyway, I've a much better tidbit of news.

HAVERS  
_(guessing)  
_Bloke in the sharp suit?

ADELE  
_(casually, though her enthusiasm is impossible to contain)  
_Stephen Rushwood from the Tate.

HAVERS  
Yes, I thought he looked a bit engrossed in your conversation. Does this mean there's a booking on the horizon?

ADELE  
_(smiles, blushing a little)  
_Maybe…he didn't say for sure. He wanted to have a look round the whole exhibit, but…it sounded promising.

HAVERS  
_(grinning)  
_Looks like everything's comin' up roses, then. And you have the cheek to look surprised!

ADELE  
Oh, you can plan it a hundred times over – I know I did – and then be bowled over when it actually _does_ happen.

_She sighs and picks up a glass of wine, having discovered it to be a most effective distractive prop when there are awkward things to be said._

ADELE, CONT.  
Barbara, it's entirely possible, whatever happens tonight, that I'll be moving to London very soon. I've got a week's holiday due from Monsoon, and Tom'll have time off once he gets the final word from London on his transfer. Insp – Thomas – has already made inquiries about a flat –

HAVERS  
_(supplying for her)  
_Hence Islington –  
_(with her characteristic perceptiveness)  
_And yet you sound more than a little apprehensive.

ADELE  
_(plainly)  
_I've never had proper girlfriends, outside of work and such, and I imagine I'll have even fewer when I arrive in London as –

_Eyeing the crowd, she lowers her voice._

ADELE, CONT.  
As…Thomas Lynley's kept woman.

HAVERS  
_(crookedly)  
_I think the term he's leaning toward is "girlfriend," if that makes you feel any better.

ADELE  
_(laughs shortly)  
_You have no idea how ironic that is. Anyway –  
_(carefully evading HAVERS's eyes)  
_I'm not looking for a best friend or anything – Tom's always been that – just…somebody to trade jumpers with and go for coffee now and again. Or maybe just those little meal deals at Boots. You know.

_She takes a bracing sip of wine; HAVERS frowns in surprise as the reality of ADELE's request begins to dawn._

HAVERS  
Adele –

ADELE  
_(quickly interrupts, albeit casually; still her eyes are elsewhere)  
_It's pathetic, I imagine, asking someone to be your friend, especially when you both fancy the same bloke –

_She pauses and looks back at HAVERS._

ADELE, CONT.  
_(pathetically)  
_But that's exactly what I'm doing.

_HAVERS gives a minute smile at this candor._

HAVERS  
I'd be honored.

ADELE  
_(at once elated and relieved)  
_Really?

HAVERS  
Really.

_ADELE hands her a glass of wine, suddenly mirthful._

ADELE  
You're not gonna take exception to my implication that you fancy your boss?

HAVERS  
What's the point? You've got a lot of jumpers I'd like to borrow.

_She cracks a grin and takes a hearty draft of her wine._


	20. A Ready Distraction

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

_THOMAS walks into the gallery, sweeps the crowd with a glance, and spots ADELE laughing and drinking with HAVERS. His mind momentarily at rest in regard to her safety, he looks about for MCALLISTER and locates him quickly, standing with ROTHEBY and a handful of ART STUDENTS and looking strangely at home. As he approaches the group MCALLISTER murmurs and excuse and breaks from the group to address him._

MCALLISTER  
Tom.

THOMAS  
_(tightly, ready to snap)  
_Sir.

MCALLISTER  
As I trust you can see, the evening's turned out a raging success. Blokes from _The Sun_, _Metro_,_ Oxford Mail_,_ Oxford Times_ – even _Times_ of London, rumor has it; everybody wants the inside story and a couple of snaps of the paintings that incited a murder.

THOMAS  
_(shortly)  
_And are you enjoying that, sir?

MCALLISTER  
_(under his breath)  
_I've got an entire police staff doing their best to deflect queries without giving the game away; of course I'm not enjoying it!  
_(his voice rises slightly with enthusiasm)  
_But you have to admit, this volume of attention's like to do wondrous things for your mum. Not ten minutes ago I saw her with that Rushwood – and him looking thoroughly captivated, I might add. Good thing we got your transfer papers in the works; at this rate, your mum'll be in London before Christmas.

_THOMAS looks momentarily torn – as much as this news tugs at him, it cannot overrule his fears or his duty._

THOMAS  
Well enough, sir – but if we could return to the matter at hand.

MCALLISTER  
_(scoffing lightly)  
_Right. You want us to let Lundy go in the middle of your mum's triumph because…?

THOMAS  
I have reason to believe that someone else killed Davey Gilchrist.

_MCALLISTER glances up and around to see if anyone is eavesdropping, then draws THOMAS out to the foyer, for safety's sake._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

_LYNLEY is standing off to one side of the gallery, allegedly regarding the paintings, but his body is positioned so that he can clearly watch ADELE, who is now conversing beneath a series of paintings with two well-dressed ART AFICIONADOS. His is clearly a look more of longing than watchfulness, and after about thirty seconds of this intensity he turns and walks over to her, almost abruptly._

LYNLEY  
_(to ART AFICIONADOS)  
_Do pardon my intrusion. Miss Crawford –

_He turns to ADELE in a businesslike fashion._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Might I beg a word in private?

_ADELE's smooth, exquisite face betrays nothing._

ADELE  
Yes, of course, Lord Asherton. I believe you were interested in the Pygmalion series?  
_(to ART AFICIONADOS, with excessive politeness)  
_Do excuse me; it won't be a moment.

_She rests a casual hand on LYNLEY's arm as he leads her through the crowd, clearly relishing this stolen moment of public proximity. A few officers look up as they pass but quickly look away again when they see she's under the superior protection of the Detective Inspector._

LYNLEY  
_(murmurs)  
_You're shameless.

ADELE  
_(casually)  
_You're the one who interrupted a sale.

_LYNLEY looks at her sharply._

LYNLEY  
Quite right, too! You mean to sell the whole collection while my back is turned?

ADELE  
_(teasingly, albeit in a very soft voice)  
_What, just because you're my lover, Thomas, you think you have exclusive rights to my paintings?

LYNLEY  
_(huskily)  
_I'm hoping that's not all I have exclusive rights to…

_ADELE catches her breath, tightening her grip on his arm, and he sets his hand on hers – surreptitiously, to prolong the contact._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(softly)  
_Where can we go? There's police and press everywhere –

ADELE  
_(breathlessly)  
_Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't that your idea?

LYNLEY  
Police – yes.  
_(grumbling)  
_The press is another story entirely.

_She looks up at him with a curious, wondering look._

ADELE  
Can I show you something?

LYNLEY  
Provided it's a dark secluded part of the building…

_He trails off meaningfully, holding her gaze; ADELE attempts to lighten the moment with a chuckle._

ADELE  
Well, it's _in_ a dark, secluded part of the building. I can't promise we'll be alone, but it's worth a shot.

_She carefully leads him in the direction of the side corridor. At the selfsame moment, HAVERS, who is still lingering near the wine table (for what should, by this point, be obvious reasons), she looks up at their exit with no little emotion broiling behind her unruffled expression._

KATHERINE BRAMWELL, O.S.  
_(wistfully)  
_Why do the utterly gorgeous ones always manage to find each other?

_HAVERS turns to look at her in surprise. Like HAVERS, KATHERINE is prettified for the occasion; her dark hair is pinned up but for a few long tendrils, and she wears a stylish cocktail dress of dark rose. Assessing HAVERS in a glance, she adds:_

KATHERINE  
Though, to be perfectly honest, Sergeant, you've cleaned up rather stunning yourself.

HAVERS  
_(snorts)  
_So I've heard.

KATHERINE  
_(conspiratorially)  
_Listen, what do you say: after this, we blow the gallery for the clubs and really make our blokes jealous?

HAVERS  
Somehow, in my case, I doubt it would have the desired effect.

_She throws back the last sip of wine from her glass; clearly, it's beginning to speak for her._

KATHERINE  
_(surprised and a little impressed)  
_Is it me, Sergeant, or did you just admit to fancying DI Lynley?

_Startled by KATHERINE's perception, HAVERS covers up with mock-horror._

HAVERS  
Who said anything about Lynley? The minute I stepped into the gallery tonight, McAllister asked me if I'd join him for a coffee after, so: sad to say, if we're headed for clubbing, he'll probably follow us.

KATHERINE  
_(sagely)  
_Ah yes, a bit of a clinger-on, that one, since the missus went off. See if you can ditch him and bring Tom instead.

HAVERS  
Tom - Crawford?  
_(at KATHERINE's nod)  
_Why?

KATHERINE  
_(slyly)  
_There's a rumor going round that he's a fantastic dancer – not to mention, drop-dead gorgeous.

HAVERS  
What, that part's just a rumor?

_KATHERINE laughs._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Anyway – hold that thought.

_Her eyes flicker in the direction of the side corridor, into which LYNLEY and ADELE have disappeared…_

HAVERS  
I have a feeling I'm going to need a distraction in a minute.

KATHERINE  
_(teasingly)  
_What, not enough dishy blokes about for you? You really are insatiable, Sergeant.

HAVERS  
Right – not that kind of distraction.

_She looks pointedly back at the side corridor._

KATHERINE  
_(wickedly)  
_Kip's just parking the car. He should be walking in any minute now…I think we can oblige you with something.

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA. SIDE CORRIDOR – EVENING.**

_LYNLEY and ADELE, still looking like an exquisite promenading couple, arrive in a dim side corridor, simply finished with no overflow of the gallery décor. Constable MALVERN lurks at the end of the corridor, staring out the locked rear door into darkness and clearly bored out of his mind, and he barely gives them a glance as they arrive. On the outside wall of the corridor are the men's and women's toilets and a drinking fountain, and on the inside wall are two paintings, illumined by tiny spotlights inset just above. It is before these paintings that ADELE leads LYNLEY. Both are portraits of ADELE – slightly fantastical, but by no means bizarrely abstract. In both, her hair is a whorl of myriad shades of black and purple, even green – the same vibrant green the artist used for her eyes. True to life, her skin is flawless and porcelain-pale._

_ADELE turns to face LYNLEY._

ADELE  
_(very, very softly)  
_Your son painted these. They're the least abstract work he's ever let see the light of day. I thought displaying them here would be a segue of sorts for my exhibition – portraits of the artist, by an up-and-coming artist.

LYNLEY  
_(a little hoarsely, his eyes still on the paintings)  
_They're...absolutely exquisite…

_He looks at her suddenly._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Please tell me they're the only portraits anyone's ever made of you.

ADELE  
_(laughs)  
_To the best of my knowledge, yes. Remember, Thomas, I'm not accustomed to being thought remarkable.

LYNLEY  
Yes, and as I also recall, I had a plan to rectify that.

_LYNLEY turns to call to MALVERN, who is still staring morosely out the back door:_

LYNLEY  
Constable –  
_(at ADELE's inaudible prompt)  
_Malvern, is it?

_MALVERN looks up hopefully._

MALVERN  
Yes, sir?

LYNLEY  
Grab yourself a canapé and some wine – I'll keep watch for the moment.

_It's the equivalent of tossing a coin to a servant; MALVERN nods gratefully –_

MALVERN  
Thank you, sir.

_- and disappears. Knowing exactly what sparked this dismissal, ADELE looks up at LYNLEY, trembling with both fear and anticipation._

ADELE  
_(whispers)  
_Thomas, we _can't_…

LYNLEY  
Everyone's too busy drinking and gossiping in there to care about two pins about what happens out here. And in any case, I believe _The Sun_'s come and gone already.

ADELE  
_(mock-offense)  
_And not a word to me? I'm crushed –

_He leans in and kisses her passionately._

HAVERS, O.S.  
_(not unlike a star-struck teen)  
_Oh my God, Kip Finnegan! It's Kip Finnegan, from Modern Art.

_LYNLEY and ADELE break apart. They are still alone in the corridor, while in the gallery, a voiceover hubbub ensues, with each query overlapping the last – to LYNLEY and ADELE's amused amazement:_

REPORTER #1, O.S.  
Is that Kip Finnegan?

REPORTER #2, O.S.  
Mr. Finnegan, is it true you have a history of utilizing vandalism as an art medium – ?

REPORTER #3, O.S.  
Mr. Finnegan, are you romantically involved with Miss Crawford?

REPORTER #4, O.S.  
Mr. Finnegan, any word from the Tate Modern about picking up your exhibition – ?

_ADELE laughs in sheer disbelief._

ADELE  
I absolutely love your sergeant, Thomas. Have I mentioned that yet? I could kiss her – and Kip – for the ready distraction.

LYNLEY  
You'll do no such thing.

_He promptly shoves her back against the wall between the portraits, all the while kissing her fiercely. After a few seconds of mutual ardor she pushes him back with a breathless chuckle._

ADELE  
Thomas, that was lovely –  
_(catching a ragged breath)  
_- _beyond_ lovely – but: have you gone mad?

LYNLEY  
_(consideringly)  
_Yes, I think I have.  
_(suddenly)  
_Adele, let's leave tonight – right after the show. We'll go to Italy –

ADELE  
_(teasingly)  
_And what will you tell your wife when we get back?

LYNLEY  
_(running with the idea)  
_We won't come back. We'll let a villa in Florence. You can paint; I can watch you…

_He trails off meaningfully as he traces the neckline of her bodice with lingering fingertips._

ADELE  
_(mock offense)  
_Thomas!

LYNLEY  
Oh yes, and we'll send for him.  
_(at her look)  
_Your son, darling –_ our_ son. Our clever, handsome, utterly perfect son…

_He leans in to kiss her again, but ADELE neatly evades him with another query._

ADELE  
_(grinning)  
_And what will _he_ do in Florence, pray tell, seeing as he no longer fits in a hamper under the kitchen table?

LYNLEY  
Whatever he likes, provided he has his own flat and doesn't hang round ours at inopportune moments.

_He leans toward her again. This time ADELE does not move away._

ADELE  
What, like this one?

_They kiss, yet again. It would almost be disgusting if it weren't so sweet._

LYNLEY  
Exactly like this one.

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA. FOYER – EVENING.**

_THOMAS has clearly just finished presenting his conclusions to MCALLISTER, who is nothing short of aghast._

THOMAS  
I'll admit, it sounds crazy, sir –

MCALLISTER  
_(appalled)  
_Crazy? Tom, you're talking about putting away your own grandfather on the basis of a few wild threads – barely even circumstantial evidence! Lundy had a motive for killing Gilchrist; your grandfather doesn't –

THOMAS  
But he had clear access to the murder weapon, which I'll remind you –

MCALLISTER  
_(groans)  
_Tom, you're brilliant; I'll be the first to admit that. But for all you know, your granddad got confused and put your palette knife away in the pub kitchen. Think about it: John Crawford, capable of this kind of scheme? No fingerprints, no DNA –

THOMAS  
_(darkly)  
_He's observed my work with the police for seven years, sir; I daresay he could've picked up a few things.

MCALLISTER  
Look – I'm sorry, lad. But unless your granddad appears and starts makin' threatening remarks, there's not a lot we can do tonight –

THOMAS  
Right. Thanks for nothing, sir.

_He storms away._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

_THOMAS storms into the gallery, ignoring greetings and the mob surrounding a smartly dressed FINNEGAN (and grinning KATHERINE), and goes directly to HAVERS, who has transitioned from wine to canapés, and not a moment too soon._

THOMAS  
Sergeant.  
_(abruptly, with neither preamble nor artifice)  
_You look lovely.

_She looks up at him in surprise and rambles out a mock-rant in reply, in her mild state of inebriation sounding almost Glaswegian._

HAVERS  
What, is that all I get: "You look lovely"? I'm wearin' makeup and torture devices on my feet, to say nothin' of what your mum made me wear under this thing – which, I'll remind you, _you_ picked out.

_She demonstratively tugs at the fabric of her skirt as she continues in her mock-rant, THOMAS being temporarily stunned into silence._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Hell, McAllister asked me out for a coffee afterward; you'd think –

THOMAS  
_(as abruptly as he complimented her)  
_I need to talk to you, Sergeant – about the case.

_HAVERS sobers instantly._

HAVERS  
What're you talking about?

THOMAS  
I talked to DS McAllister already, but he thinks I'm crazy.

HAVERS  
_(fairly)  
_What'd you tell him?

_He draws a bracing breath, as though aware of how ridiculous this will sound._

THOMAS  
I found my keys to Mum's– they turned up on my nightstand tonight, just before I left to come here.

HAVERS  
Yeah, so you think your granddad found –

_Her eyes widen at his expression – the realization of his full suspicions._

HAVERS, CONT.  
You think your granddad _used_ them – to get into the gallery and kill Davey Gilchrist.

THOMAS  
You think I'm crazy too.

_He turns away in disgust._

HAVERS  
_(truthfully)  
_No, I don't; in fact –

THOMAS  
_(suddenly)  
_Where's Mum? She was with you last I saw –

HAVERS  
_(making a concerted effort to answer nonchalantly and none too quickly)  
_She's…with DI Lynley. She's fine.

_He looks demonstratively about the gallery._

THOMAS  
Where?

HAVERS  
_(unable to concoct a better lie)  
_I think he escorted her to the loo; at least, they were headed in that direction, just a minute or two ago. She should be back any moment now.

THOMAS  
Yeah, probably. Come on.

_He catches HAVERS's arm and tugs her in the direction of the side corridor._

HAVERS  
_(warning as casually as possible, albeit with a distinct thread of panic)  
_I'm not sure that's the best idea, Constable…

THOMAS  
_(dismissing this protest)  
_I need to make sure she's okay, and if the Inspector's there, I can tell him about this new evidence.

_Appalled but powerless to stop him, HAVERS follows THOMAS to the side corridor._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA. SIDE CORRIDOR – EVENING.**

_THOMAS and HAVERS arrive at the dimly lit corridor and both freeze outright at the sight of LYNLEY kissing ADELE, who is quite clearly reciprocating the passion. HAVERS stares at the floor for a long moment, then over at THOMAS, who is tensed and ready to snap with rage._

THOMAS  
_(a bit too loudly; perhaps not entirely in control of his vocal faculties)  
_Inspector Lynley!

_LYNLEY and ADELE break apart; both are mortified at having been caught as such but LYNLEY is quicker at dropping the mask._

LYNLEY  
_(calmly)  
_Yes, Detective Constable?

THOMAS  
A word, _sir_ –  
_(the emphasis is derogatory)  
_- if you don't mind.

_He storms past them into the men's toilet, not even looking at ADELE, who is gazing at him with agonized eyes. Once he's gone she looks at LYNLEY, who glances from her to HAVERS and back again before following THOMAS._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA. GENTS' TOILET – EVENING.**

_LYNLEY walks into the bathroom and is promptly punched in the jaw by a truly enraged THOMAS._

THOMAS  
How _dare you_?

_LYNLEY brings a hand to his jaw to ascertain the damage._

LYNLEY  
If I didn't think I deserved that, Constable, your career –

THOMAS  
_(sneering)  
_Oh please – _my _career? Do your assignments generally allow for taking the witness out of sight of the rest of the team so you can snog her in the shadows?

LYNLEY  
I'm sorry you had to see that, but the fact is –

THOMAS  
The fact is: you're a married man, Inspector. You didn't think we'd be aware of that, all the way out here in Oxford?

LYNLEY  
_(miserably)  
_Please, Constable –

THOMAS  
_(furiously)  
_Just because she's an artist with a son out of wedlock doesn't mean she's free for any man's taking!

LYNLEY  
_(vehemently)  
_I _never _assumed that – _never! _Adele is…

_His vehemence cools as he tries to explain._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
There's more to this, Constable, than you realize –

THOMAS  
More?

_Taking the absolute worse meaning to this, he stares LYNLEY down with cold rage._

THOMAS, CONT.  
Did you sleep with her?

_When LYNLEY does not answer immediately, THOMAS lunges forward to grab him by the throat and shove him against the wall._

THOMAS, CONT.  
Did you sleep with my mum, Inspector?

LYNLEY  
_(breathlessly)  
_It wasn't what you think –

_THOMAS tightens his grasp at LYNLEY's throat, his rage now at a boiling point._

THOMAS  
Did you sleep with her?

_LYNLEY looks away, a gesture which requires no interpretation, and for a moment THOMAS is too horrified – at the notion of his role model sleeping with his paragon mother – to physically retaliate._

THOMAS  
_(flailing for a fit epithet in his fury)  
_You…bastard!

_LYNLEY, not wanting to hurt his son or be hurt by him, jerks away before THOMAS can hit him again and crosses to a suitable distance across the room for a face-off._

THOMAS, CONT.  
To think I looked up to you!

LYNLEY  
It wasn't…

_He abandons this feeble defense in favor of brutal truth._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Oh hell: your mother and I have a history, all right? And frankly, I'm amazed she hasn't told you yet.

THOMAS  
_(caustically)  
_You and my mum have a history? Oh, that's rich. The pub owner's daughter and the eighth earl of Asherton?

LYNLEY  
Yes.

THOMAS  
_(incredulous and still scoffing)  
_She would've told me.  
_(weakening a little)  
_Mum tells me everything –

LYNLEY  
_(snaps)  
_Then why the hell don't you know who your father is?

_THOMAS is genuinely stung by this remark, and he and LYNLEY stare at each other wordlessly for a long moment._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Constable…I am sorry. This is not my place to say –

THOMAS  
_(coldly)  
_No it's not, nor is it any of your business.

LYNLEY  
- but, seeing as your mother hasn't told you, and you're unlikely to let me out of this room alive unless I explain –

ADELE, O.S.  
Thomas?

_LYNLEY and THOMAS both turn toward the door, which is open a crack so ADELE can peer in._

ADELE  
_(pleasantly but warningly at the same time)  
_If you're finished with your discussion, Stephen Rushwood wants to talk to me before he leaves, and I'd rather like both of you to be there for the conversation.

THOMAS  
_(darkly)  
_This isn't finished. Sir.

_He adds that last as an afterthought, then shoves in front of LYNLEY to exit the room. _


	21. Acts of Love

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA. SIDE CORRIDOR – EVENING.**

_RUSHWOOD is waiting in the corridor with ADELE, silently gazing up, now and again, at THOMAS's portraits; HAVERS is lingering at the building's back door, staring deliberately out into the darkness. RUSHWOOD glances between LYNLEY and THOMAS as they emerge into the corridor._

RUSHWOOD  
_(delicately)  
_Domestic troubles?

ADELE  
_(quickly)  
_Not at all, sir – Lord Asherton is a Detective Inspector with the Metropolitan Police, as no doubt you know, and he and Tom worked together on Davey's Gilchrist's murder investigation.

RUSHWOOD  
I see.  
_(to THOMAS)  
_Mr. Crawford, I understand you gave up a place at The Ruskin to train for the police.

_THOMAS's reply is even; he still hasn't put the whole puzzle together, though RUSHWOOD seems to be doing so._

THOMAS  
My dad worked for the police, sir.

RUSHWOOD  
_(curiouser and curiouser)  
_Indeed? Yet you've clearly continued to develop your talent outside the academic realm…

_He gestures demonstratively at the portraits._

RUSHWOOD, CONT.  
These are your own creations, I understand?

_THOMAS shoots a look at ADELE, not so much betrayed as confused as to why she would mention this._

THOMAS  
They are, sir.

RUSHWOOD  
_(simply)  
_Let me know when you've a full exhibition assembled.

_He hands THOMAS his card._

RUSHWOOD, CONT.  
I look forward to observing your progress. And as for you, Miss Crawford…

_He smiles. ADELE is abruptly on tenterhooks at this address; in fact, the whole corridor seems suddenly blanketed with painful anticipation of his decree._

RUSHWOOD, CONT.  
_(almost affectionately)  
_Your paintings, this exhibition – you yourself, my dear – are simply magical. While I'll need to iron out a few details with my colleagues before I can offer you anything a bit, shall we say, more exclusive, I most definitely want to ensure, here and now, the loan of your Pygmalion series for our spring season.

ADELE  
_(stunned)  
_Sir?

RUSHWOOD  
_(his smile broadens)  
_Birmingham's been kind enough to lend us the Burne-Jones series; I thought yours would present a striking comparison – not to mention, one Alaina Morrigan tells me your series was inspired by an impassioned dislike of Burne-Jones' take on the myth.

_At the mention of ALAINA, ADELE wonders briefly if this might all be a joke._

ADELE  
I…are you serious, Mr. Rushwood?

RUSHWOOD  
_(warmly)  
_I am, Miss Crawford. We need a lovely female to stir things up amongst the Pre-Raphaelites – in fact, if I were you, I'd not break your collection with sales for a good long while. I've notated some of my other favorites for my colleagues' benefit and will contact you directly with their decision on which we may wish to –  
_(clears his throat pointedly)  
_- acquire.

_ADELE's eyes widen in surprised delight; RUSHWOOD smiles and offers his hand._

RUSHWOOD, CONT.  
_(genuinely)  
_Congratulations, Miss Crawford. I am flattered to have the honor of introducing you to the world.

_ADELE, slightly dazed, takes and shakes his hand, then he turns to LYNLEY._

RUSHWOOD, CONT.  
As for you, my lord – it's not a bad thought, the Turner Prize. It's early days yet to be selecting contenders, but I shan't forget this exhibition when the time comes to assemble a shortlist – you may be sure of that.  
_(to the group as a whole)  
_And now, if you'll kindly excuse me, I was meant to greet Kip Finnegan for a colleague at Tate Modern.

_There is a mild cacophony of "Thank you, sir"s from ADELE, LYNLEY, and THOMAS as RUSHWOOD returns to the gallery. The moment he is out of sight, ADELE turns to seize THOMAS in a sound and unrelenting hug._

THOMAS  
_(whispers earnestly)  
_I knew Rushwood would love you, Mum – just _knew_ it.

_She draws back to kiss him on the cheek, forcing him to look her in the eyes for the first time since he caught her with LYNLEY._

ADELE  
I love you, Tommy.  
_(beseechingly)  
_Please don't let anything spoil this evening.

_His only response is a grudging look – back at her, not at LYNLEY._

ADELE, CONT.  
Please?

_In the midst of this opportune moment Constable MALVERN meanders in from the gallery, munching a canapé, but before he can come three steps into the corridor, HAVERS is beside him._

HAVERS  
Right, you'll want to come with me, Constable.

_She adds, over her shoulder, to THOMAS._

HAVERS, CONT.  
You too, Crawford. A celebratory glass of wine is just what we need.

MALVERN  
_(nonplussed)  
_But, ma'am, I just got –

HAVERS  
_(insistently)  
_Trust me.  
_(to THOMAS)  
_Constable?

_THOMAS is perfectly aware of why she's removing them from the corridor at this moment, though MALVERN remains cheerfully oblivious, and THOMAS contemplates in a glance whether or not to resist her order to continue the argument._

ADELE  
_(softly, to THOMAS)  
_Go on, love – just for a moment. Please.

_He gives her a wounded glare – clearly, she's never dismissed him for a lover before – and stalks over to follow HAVERS and MALVERN out into the corridor. ADELE looks up at LYNLEY helplessly._

ADELE, CONT.  
Well, that wasn't exactly how I'd envisioned it.

LYNLEY  
Nor I, though I can't say I blame him.

_Freed of his audience, he brings a hand to nurse his jaw._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
He hit me pretty damn hard.

ADELE  
_(appalled)  
_He _what_? Tom's never hit anyone in his life!

LYNLEY  
_(placatingly)  
_He's probably never walked in on a situation like this before. I caught my mother with another man once, and I'm ashamed to say Tom's reaction was more honorable than my own.

ADELE  
_(softly)  
_The problem is: you're not "another man" – you're the only one. The only one there's ever been.

LYNLEY  
_(a little breathless, as always at these declarations)  
_Right…how'd you propose we tell him that?

_She sighs and reaches out to curl her fingers through his._

ADELE  
_(wearily)  
_Right now, a phone call from Florence sounds like a great idea.

_LYNLEY pulls her into his arms, simply holding her for a very long time._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

_HAVERS hands a shaken and still terrifically angry THOMAS a glass of wine from the table, then takes yet another one for herself. _

HAVERS  
Drink this down.  
_(with very little sarcasm)  
_Trust me, it helps.

THOMAS  
_(tightly, albeit with little accusation)  
_You knew about them? You tried to stop me –

HAVERS  
_(sighs and settles for a half-truth which is surprisingly close to the whole truth)  
_I – guessed, after they went out last night.  
_(attempting a careful observation)  
_This isn't like DI Lynley –

THOMAS  
_(admits with a scowl)  
_Nor Mum. I guess your boss is just more irresistible than the rest.

_HAVERS scoffs and tosses back the rest of her wine._

HAVERS  
Oh, you have no idea.

_A movement catches her eye – namely, JOHN CRAWFORD, walking away from a canapé-laden MALVERN in the direction of the side corridor._

HAVERS, CONT.  
_(suddenly, to THOMAS)  
_Your granddad – you were sayin' earlier, about your keys?

THOMAS  
_(in a voice that is lifeless and void of suspicion)  
_Yeah, what do I know anymore?

HAVERS  
_(shortly)  
_I'm serious, Constable. What made you think your granddad killed Gilchrist?

THOMAS  
_(wearily, reciting the facts by disinterested rote)  
_My keys turned up tonight, out of nowhere, and I'm missing a palette knife – a older one, a cast-off from Mum – that matches the murder weapon. Plus, neither the eyewitness nor CCTV could more than vaguely identify Lundy, whose description could also apply to Granddad, but –

_HAVERS has been listening to all this with dawning horror, now she speaks with sharp impatience:_

HAVERS  
Your granddad was harboring some resentment toward your mum, yeah? What did he think of your dad?

THOMAS  
Hated him, naturally, for –  
_(puzzled)  
_What's that got to do with anything?

_HAVERS looks toward the entrance of the side corridor, which CRAWFORD is a few steps from entering, and her eyes widen in panic._

HAVERS  
Come on.

_She seizes his arm and drags him through the crowd toward the side corridor._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERY. SIDE CORRIDOR – EVENING.**

_LYNLEY is still holding ADELE, gently stroking her hair with one hand._

LYNLEY  
_(softly)  
_London on the morrow then?

_She looks up at him hopefully._

ADELE  
I don't suppose you could make it tonight?

_LYNLEY laughs gently._

LYNLEY  
I told you: your only options for this evening are a red-eye flight to Florence or my hotel room.

_ADELE laughs lightly in return._

ADELE  
Given the choice, I'd prefer –

_She is interrupted by CRAWFORD as he approaches from the gallery entrance._

CRAWFORD, O.S.  
Del? Del, is that you?

ADELE  
_(groans, not looking up)  
_Oh God, not now –

LYNLEY  
_(reassuringly)  
_Don't worry; I'll handle it.

_He releases ADELE from their embrace, though she catches hold of his forearms, unwilling to break all contact in fear of her father's proximity._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(raising his voice in pleasant address)  
_Mr. Crawford!

_CRAWFORD frowns, peering at LYNLEY as he comes closer to the portrait spotlights – the only useful lighting in the corridor._

CRAWFORD  
Del? Who's that you're…?

_There is a horrifically long pause as he recognizes his daughter's lover._

CRAWFORD, CONT.  
_(in a voice that is the more terrifying for its lack of emotion)  
_Tommy Lynley.

_ADELE's hands tighten on LYNLEY's forearms._

LYNLEY  
_(good-naturedly, unaware of ADELE's escalating fear and CRAWFORD's cold fury)  
_That's right, sir; I used to come into your pub –

CRAWFORD  
_(darkly)  
_You came into more'n that.

_He glares at ADELE, whose fingers tighten to bruising force on LYNLEY's forearms. LYNLEY clears his throat embarrassedly at this remark._

LYNLEY  
Yes, sir. I do apologize for my youthful indiscretion, but –

_CRAWFORD continues looking at LYNLEY with glazed, unseeing eyes._

CRAWFORD  
_(slowly, almost thoughtfully)  
_Knew you was in town. Heard you might be here. Never thought I'd get the chance, though.

LYNLEY  
_(puzzled)  
_The chance for what, sir?

_CRAWFORD draws a handgun from inside his coat with a bitter smile._

CRAWFORD  
Always hated you, Lynley, you rich bastard.

_He takes aim._

ADELE  
No!

_Her motivation in holding onto LYNLEY is now clear; she pulls her body in front of his, blocking CRAWFORD's shot. For a moment LYNLEY is too horrified to react._

CRAWFORD  
_(snarls at ADELE)  
_You stay out of this, once for all! He's done naught but ruin your life, Del –

ADELE  
He hasn't, and I love him! More than I'd ever love _you_, after you tried to blackmail his mum and –

CRAWFORD  
_(wildly, his gun hand shaking)  
_Shut it! _Shut it_, you stupid girl! I did it for you!

HAVERS, O.S.  
And is that why you killed Davey Gilchrist? For her?

_CRAWFORD glances back, but only for a split second, to see HAVERS and THOMAS CRAWFORD approaching him slowly from behind. ADELE stares at CRAWFORD in breathless horror._

ADELE  
_You_ killed Davey? _Dad…!_

_CRAWFORD waves the gun from LYNLEY to HAVERS and back again, even at ADELE, as he raves. LYNLEY, white with terror, pulls ADELE back, halfway behind him._

CRAWFORD  
You din't need him! You din't need Lynley! I was always there, wasn't I? Din't I save every bloody penny for your schoolin' and try to get you out of trouble when you were havin' Lynley's baby?

_THOMAS freezes with a gasp and stares at LYNLEY and ADELE; both are too caught up in the terror of the moment to give him more than a brief, wordless stare._

CRAWFORD, CONT.  
_(scowling)  
_I can't fix what happened then.

_He glances back at the utterly stricken THOMAS._

CRAWFORD, CONT.  
You're a good lad, Tom; never mind your dad was a greedy rich bastard who used your mum for a quick shag before swannin' off to the House of Lords.

_CRAWFORD turns back to LYNLEY with a deadly cold glare._

CRAWFORD, CONT.  
But I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you take away my daughter again.

_He aims the gun and fires just as ADELE shoves in front of LYNLEY with an adrenaline-fueled burst of strength. The bullet pierces ADELE's chest; she cries out in pain and slumps against LYNLEY, who catches her in his arms. CRAWFORD drops the gun, white-faced with horror._

CRAWFORD  
_(howls)  
_Nooooo! What've y'done, y' stupid girl!

_LYNLEY, cradling ADELE against him, shouts to his sergeant._

LYNLEY  
Havers!

_HAVERS leaps on the horrified CRAWFORD and kicks away the gun, which is rather impressive (despite the gravity of the situation) for a pixie-curled redhead in a backless cocktail dress._

HAVERS  
Got him, sir!

_A ghastly pale LYNLEY lowers ADELE, the bodice of her angelic gown soaked with blood, onto the floor, while an ashen, almost paralyzed-with-shock THOMAS leaps into action and comes over to her. She looks up at him through pained, half-closed eyes._

ADELE  
_(weakly)  
_Thomas…

THOMAS  
I'm here, Mum. I'm here.

_He strokes her cheek with a trembling hand._

THOMAS, CONT.  
_(tenderly)  
_You're gonna be fine.

_Giving the lie to this gentle reassurance, he screams down the corridor at the GUESTS who are filing into the corridor to investigate the gunshot._

THOMAS, CONT.  
Somebody call an ambulance! _Now!_ McAllister!

_MCALLISTER and ROTHEBY push their way through the crowd and take one appalled look at the scene before springing into action, with the help of the other CONSTABLES, shoving back the REPORTERS, PHOTOGRAPHERS, and other curious onlookers. LYNLEY takes out his mobile and is dialing 999 when ADELE's hand catches his._

ADELE  
Let it go, love…it's too late…

_LYNLEY slowly, thoughtlessly returns the mobile to his jacket pocket while his other hand curls around ADELE's._

THOMAS  
_(brokenly, on the verge of tears)  
_Don't say that! We can have you at hospital before –

_She closes her eyes and draws a rasping breath._

ADELE  
You have to forgive him, Tommy…

_The tears begin to spill down THOMAS's face._

THOMAS  
What – Granddad? I'll never forgive him, Mum – never as long as I live – !

ADELE  
You have to forgive…your father…

_THOMAS's tears are now streaking unchecked._

THOMAS  
But you never –

ADELE  
I love you…

_Her eyes open briefly and flicker to LYNLEY, who still holds her hand, then back to her son._

ADELE  
Love you both…so much…

_Her eyes fall closed as she dies._

THOMAS  
Mum!

_He shakes her a little._

THOMAS, CONT.  
Mum, _no_!

_He catches her by the shoulders and pulls her body to him, sobbing awfully._

THOMAS, CONT.  
_(screaming)  
__Noooooooooooo!_

_LYNLEY sits beside him, biting his lip and looking away from the scene, though his eyes are bright and brimming with tears as well. HAVERS, white to the lips and trembling imperceptibly, wrestles a whimpering CRAWFORD to his feet._

HAVERS  
_(with a frigid calm)  
_John Crawford, I'm arresting you for the murders of Davey Gilchrist and Adele Crawford –

_CRAWFORD gives a painful cry at his daughter's name; HAVERS wrenches his arms more tightly behind his back._

HAVERS, CONT.  
_(continuing by rote)  
_You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say will be used in evidence.

_She glances at LYNLEY for a split second – all she can take of the agony in his eyes – before turning CRAWFORD about and shoving him toward the assembly of CONSTABLES. LYNLEY still holds ADELE's hand; the rest of her upper body is cradled by a sobbing THOMAS. Almost involuntarily, LYNLEY brings his free hand to her cheek, and THOMAS's sobbing abruptly ceases._

THOMAS  
_(terrifyingly quiet)  
__You_ did this.

_LYNLEY looks up to see THOMAS regarding him with wet, over-bright, calculating eyes._

THOMAS  
You were supposed to be protecting her! If you hadn't –

_He breaks off sharply at the recollection._

THOMAS, CONT.  
She wouldn't have died if it weren't for you!

_He gazes down at ADELE'S BODY, lying lifeless in the cradle of his arms._

THOMAS, CONT.  
_(hopelessly)  
_Why did you come here? You've destroyed everything! She was happy –

_LYNLEY gently reaches out a hand to THOMAS's shoulder and addresses him for the first time ever as his son._

LYNLEY  
Thomas…

_THOMAS strikes his hand away._

THOMAS  
_(almost screaming)  
_Go away! Go back to London and your wife and your mansions! I hate you!

_He buries his face in the curve of ADELE's neck._

THOMAS, CONT.  
_(screaming truly)  
__Hate you!_

_LYNLEY recoils from his son's hatred, stumbling to his feet and walking shakily toward the crowd._


	22. Shattered

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. POLICE STATION – NIGHT.**

_HAVERS, still in her borrowed evening clothes, is sitting inside the interview room with JOHN CRAWFORD. THOMAS CRAWFORD, still in his evening clothes, which are stained heavily with ADELE's blood, is sitting outside the room, on the other side of the window, looking in the opposite direction but unmistakably hearing every word, with a slightly unfocused expression that is agonized and shattered. He is holding the worn Polaroid showing YOUNG LYNLEY with his arm around YOUNG ADELE. The scribbled caption reads "Tommy & Adele, Zodiac, June '84."_

JOHN CRAWFORD, V.O.  
_(very quietly, reminiscent)  
_Could'a got anyone in those days, could Adele. Looked like a storybook princess with all that hair. Din't know it, though, which was for the best.

**INT. POLICE STATION. INTERVIEW ROOM – NIGHT.**

_CRAWFORD sits at the table opposite HAVERS, in the midst of a reverie._

CRAWFORD  
Doted on me, worked at the pub, painted her pictures…I r'member the day I told her I'd saved enough to get her to Oxford. Her eyes went all bright and she cried a lit'l, she was that happy.

HAVERS  
_(quietly)  
_What happened?

CRAWFORD  
Tommy Lynley – comin' into my pub with his mates. I'd had to toady to their lot before, that I could bear, but Del…She was forever watchin' him behind a book or the bar, thinkin' no one saw. Broke my heart to see her so. Then she got her A-levels and I couldn't refuse her anything.  
_(darkly)  
_I knew where she spent that night, bound and determined though she was to hide it. She'd never been secretive before…So off she goes to uni, not seemin' the least bit happy, and comes home at Christmas, big as a house, to say she's droppin' out.  
_(with escalating anger)  
_I'd saved a small fortune – every bleedin' penny, for years and years – just so she could study art at Oxford, and she wants to give it up for Lynley's bastard! So I said we'd go after him, like; he'd buy us off, pay for a nanny, at least, so Del could go back to school. But she'd hear none o' that. Din't even want him to know. Din't want to "ruin" his life, she said.  
_(softer)  
_Loved him, she said.  
_(clears his throat)  
_Turned 'round and left again that night.

HAVERS  
And you didn't go after her?

CRAWFORD  
What was the point? Couldn't go after the clan Asherton without her. Even if I could'a found Del, she'd sworn up and down to deny the baby was his.  
_(pause)  
_Fifteen years go by and this lad walks into my pub, every inch Tommy Lynley except the eyes – Del's eyes, lookin' at me out of Tommy Lynley's face – and he says "I need money, sir; can I have a job, sir?" Needs to save for Oxford himself, he says. Needs my help. His mum needs my help.

_He looks up at HAVERS._

CRAWFORD, CONT.  
_(fiercely)  
_Del din't need me after Lynley came along – din't want me, neither – and now she did…'Course I took in the boy. He was my grandson and a good sort – nothin' like his worthless bastard of a father.  
_(riling up again)  
_It was all goin' perfect till this art show. Tom starts sayin' how, once it's over, his mum'll have the money and contacts to leave Oxford, go to London, maybe, and he'll go with her. So I see her out with that prat Davey Gilchrist, and I figure: kill him, and it solves everything. Her show gets cancelled and Tom stays in Oxford. He was a fat lech anyway; no one would miss him.

HAVERS  
His sisters certainly do. Why the palette knife? To accuse Adele?

CRAWFORD  
Got the idea from Tom, actually.

_HAVERS stares at him in horror but he carries on with grim glee:_

CRAWFORD, CONT.  
Was workin' on a painting that night before he left to meet his mum, and I saw the knife…Thought it'd be pretty sensational to find a corpse in a gallery with one o' those through his heart.

HAVERS  
And everyone would suspect Adele.

CRAWFORD  
On the contrary: nobody'd know who to suspect.  
_(with a twisted grin)  
_You din't, did you? An artist's knife and a janitor's coveralls; no prints, no DNA, no witnesses or CCTV –

HAVERS  
Actually, we have both – an eyewitness and CCTV footage from the newsagent's by the phone box where you called Gilchrist.

CRAWFORD  
_(smugly)  
_You won't get a conclusive ID from either.

HAVERS  
_(pointing out the obvious)  
_We don't need to, sir, in light of your confession. So why kill Lynley?

CRAWFORD  
_(furiously)  
_Why the hell'd you think? He impregnated my daughter, Sergeant –  
_(his voice rises and breaks with emotion)  
_She was seventeen – just a kid – and I had to look into her eyes the next morning and see the innocence was gone. She fancied herself in love with him – maybe even thought he was in love with her – and he used her like his lot use everyone else; a quick shag and chuck her out in the street.  
_(venomously)  
_If that isn't grounds for killing a man…

_He breaks off in a seething huff._

CRAWFORD, CONT.  
But that I could get over, eventually – not forgive, not forget, but move past. By the time Tom was seventeen, I could mention his dad without smashing something, and I made some remark about how glad I was that Tom was pursuin' art like his mum, instead of joinin' the police like his dad. I'd seen it in the paper; thought it was ironic that a posh prat like him would end up a common copper.  
_(scowls)  
_Of course Tom would spite me; Del turned him against me from birth. Next thing I knew he was talkin' with a police recruiter, and not another word about art school.

HAVERS  
I'm sure spiting you wasn't his only reason –

CRAWFORD  
_(explosively)  
_'Course not! He'd inherited Del's brainless devotion to the bastard! He wanted to grow up and be just like his worthless dad, din't he? And again, I got over it – I could've boxed Tom's ears for the impudence, but turns out he had an aptitude for detective work. McAllister thought he was God's gift to the force –  
_(snidely)  
_Like father, like son, I suppose.

HAVERS  
Did you kill Gilchrist to get Lynley here – knowing the Met would send someone and anticipating him?

CRAWFORD  
_(glowering up at her)  
_As if I ever wanted to see the bastard again! No, I figured the local boys would spend weeks runnin' in circles for a culprit; instead, McAllister decides it's high profile enough and calls in the cavalry, complete with DI Tommy Lynley. First thing you know, Del's on a date with him, never mind he's married; back in his bed, no doubt, ready to throw her life away again on the bastard who'd ruined it twen'y-five years b'fore.

HAVERS  
Thomas Lynley didn't ruin Del's life – just replaced you as the focus of it. She loved him, Mr. Crawford – she _died_ for him.

_CRAWFORD gives a strangled sob._

HAVERS, CONT.  
_(twisting the proverbial knife)  
_Your precious daughter died at your hands because you couldn't bear the thought of her loving anyone but you.

CRAWFORD  
_(in a sobbing howl)  
_I never meant to hurt her –

_HAVERS gets up from the table, clearly finished with the interview._

HAVERS  
Yeah, you did. You meant to kill Thomas Lynley, which would have been as good as killing Del. And now you've lost everything.

CRAWFORD  
_(retorts, with a feral gleam to his eyes)  
_Well, so has he, if I'm any judge. If his superintendent don't sack him for shagging a witness –  
_(chuckling cruelly)  
_- and face it, Sergeant, everyone knows, even that idiot Malvern – then his reputation will be pissed to the wind when word gets out about his bastard son.

_HAVERS frowns, prompting a mad grin from CRAWFORD._

CRAWFORD  
Oh yes, Detective Sergeant – he may have deprived me of my daughter, but he'll not savor the victory.

_HAVERS stares down at him for a long, silent moment._

HAVERS  
While that may be true, Mr. Crawford, I'm afraid there's one possibility you never factored into your scheme. You couldn't bear to consider it, I'd wager, in light of your resentment and prejudice.  
_(coldly and deliberately)  
_Thomas Lynley loved your daughter.

_Her suspicions strike true; CRAWFORD cringes as she continues:_

HAVERS, CONT.  
So yes, Adele's death will hurt him deeply, and maybe he will end up facing a tribunal before this is over, but he'll go to it gladly, for her sake and for their son's.

_This strikes CRAWFORD deeply, and HAVERS continues with bitter relish:_

HAVERS, CONT.  
Didn't think that far ahead, did you? You're going to prison, Mr. Crawford, and the man you hated for most of your life will end up with the only thing you ever cared about.

CRAWFORD  
_(pathetically)  
_No, not Tom –

HAVERS  
_(frigidly)  
_You just killed his mother, Mr. Crawford. Do you really think he'd ever speak to you again?

_She leaves the room as CRAWFORD sobs into his hands._

**INT. OXFORDSHIRE MORGUE – NIGHT.**

_LYNLEY, accompanied by FAIRCHILD and SEVERN, turns back the sheet covering ADELE's death-pale face and his breath catches in his throat. He still wears his evening clothes which, though entirely black, bear the dried stains of ADELE's blood._

LYNLEY  
_(to the OFFICERS)  
_Can I have a moment, please?

_The OFFICERS, their faces drawn and grey from the horror of the night, exchange wordless looks and quietly recede into the shadows._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(very softly)  
_Why did you do it, Adele? _Why?_ It should've been me taking the bullet for you, not –

_He breaks off with a stifled sob, bringing a hand to her cold face._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
What did I ever do, that you should count my life more precious than your own?  
_(desperately)  
_How could you love me, when I used you as I did?

_He chokes at the memory._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
All these years, Adele. All these years with nothing but a memory of a boy who made love to you on a whim, without promises or commitment of any sort.

_He strokes her pearl-strewn hair back from her brow with gentle fingers._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(hushed, almost awed)  
_You were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen – did you know that? Even at seventeen, you were breathtaking - and you loved me…

**CUT to INT. YOUNG LYNLEY'S BEDROOM – NIGHT.  
****SUMMER, 1984  
****(FLASHBACK)**

_YOUNG LYNLEY holds YOUNG ADELE as she sleeps, looking alternately adoring and deeply troubled._

LYNLEY, V.O.  
Do you know how it terrified me when you said that? And all I could think the next day was that you'd been drunk and didn't mean it or had spoken in the heat of the moment, nothing more. Even though the last thing you said to me – standing in my room that morning, fighting the tears at my rejection –

**CUT to INT. YOUNG LYNLEY'S BEDROOM – DAY.  
****SUMMER, 1984**

_YOUNG ADELE pulls away from their frantic kiss to stare at him with bright, tearless eyes._

YOUNG ADELE  
_(whispers)  
_I love you, Thomas.

_She runs from the room._

LYNLEY, V.O., CONT.  
I couldn't let myself believe…couldn't give up some forgettable posh girlfriend on a mad hope of being with you.

_YOUNG LYNLEY stares after YOUNG ADELE as she leaves his flat._

LYNLEY, V.O., CONT.  
Life with you would have been uncertain – wildly, deliciously uncertain – and I couldn't bear the thought. I ran away, Adele, ran away and only tried to see you once.

**(END FLASHBACK)**

**CUT to INT. OXFORDSHIRE MORGUE – NIGHT.**

_LYNLEY is half lying beside ADELE's BODY now, his left arm cradling her upper body as his right hand caresses her cheek._

LYNLEY  
_(with a broken smile)  
_The night that I came back to see you, Adele, that Christmas…I was ready to try. I won't say I'd been perfect and thought of no one else those months, but…I couldn't forget you, somehow, and I wanted to see you again – see if you were as lovely as I remembered…if you still loved me. You weren't there, so I figured it was a fluke – whatever you claimed to feel for me was over. You'd moved on, and I was the fool for thinking we'd been more than a fling.  
_(heavily self-deprecating)  
_The most amazing girl I'd ever met, and I couldn't be bothered to get your new address. I drove off to a luxurious Christmas in Cornwall, and you were on a train bound for Reading, on the run from your father and pregnant with my son.

_With a sob he bends down to kiss her passionately, his lips pulling at hers in a frantic denial of reality. After several long, wrenching moments he draws back, but only to press his lips to her cheek as he continues:_

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(feebly attempting a smile)  
_I couldn't have dreamt a son as perfect as Tom: clever, artistic, easily the best detective I've ever worked with – not to mention, the only one with your eyes.  
_(fighting the sobs)  
_I was ready to give it all up for you, for both of you: my wife, my career, even the title, if need be, and then…then you gave up everything for me.

_He brings his free hand to her chest to rest just over the site where the bullet, meant for him, had penetrated her body._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(brokenly)  
_Oh, Adele…_why?_ It should've been me –  
_(sobbing)  
__It was supposed to be me…!_

_He leans down to kiss her desperately, the tears running freely down his face to stain hers._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
I love you, Adele. Love you more than I could've ever dared to say…and now you'll never know…

_A grim HAVERS enters the morgue and approaches the OFFICERS; the three exchange looks and HAVERS walks quietly up to LYNLEY, bringing a hand to his shoulder._

HAVERS  
Sir…

_He shrugs away her touch._

LYNLEY  
No.

HAVERS  
Sir, you need to –

LYNLEY  
_(agonized)  
_Leave me!

HAVERS  
_(quietly)  
_No.

_Through the grief, his aristocratic spine begins to surface; he straightens slightly to look back at her._

LYNLEY  
_(echoing in disbelief)  
_No?

HAVERS  
_(with calm resolution)  
_I am _not_ gonna leave you alone, sir. Not on this of all nights.

LYNLEY  
_(biting back sobs; autocratically)  
_And do you want to be looking for a new career, tomorrow of all mornings?

HAVERS  
Whatever it takes, sir. I'm not leaving you alone tonight.

LYNLEY  
_(furiously)  
_Oh, let's have done with it.

_He turns deliberately away from ADELE'S BODY._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(spitefully, though his eyes are still brimming)  
_Come, I'm sure you've brought the car out back. Or have you rung for a cab?

_He shoves past HAVERS before she can respond and storms out the door._

**EXT. OXFORDSHIRE MORGUE – NIGHT.**

_HAVERS follows LYNLEY outside to where she left the Bristol, parked at the curb._

LYNLEY  
_(still in his tirade)  
_How lovely, you've brought my car round. Am I permitted to drive it myself?

_HAVERS steps back needlessly, allowing LYNLEY to walk around her to the driver's side door and get in; after a moment she gets in silently on the passenger side. _

**INT. LYNLEY'S CAR – NIGHT.**

_As they drive through the city, LYNLEY continues in his rant._

LYNLEY  
_(sarcastically)  
_One would think I was not an experienced Detective Inspector who has seen his share of grief. Yes, of course, my sergeant knows far better than I the proper protocol when the mother of one's bastard son has just been murdered. A moment or two of grieving is surely sufficient at such a trivial event, then it's back to the station to fill out the paperwork.

**INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LOBBY – NIGHT.**

_LYNLEY is still in the thick of his rant as he stalks through the hotel, many steps ahead of a silent HAVERS and addressing her over his shoulder as though she were an unwanted lackey. Despite this, to the average passerby, they could be a fashionable couple in the midst of a row, as both are still in their evening clothes._

LYNLEY  
Yes, of course we must be decorous in front of the local police, not to mention the hotel staff. God forbid a Detective Inspector express grief for the woman who threw herself between him and death without a second of hesitation…

**INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S ROOM – NIGHT.**

_LYNLEY walks in, throws his keys on a side table and crosses to stare out the window. HAVERS follows, pulling the door closed behind her, and stops a few feet away from him, where she awkwardly addresses his back._

HAVERS  
Well…there you are, sir, safe and sound. I guess I'll…leave you to it.

_She turns and begins walking toward the adjoining door._

LYNLEY  
_(very quietly, his eyes not leaving the window)  
_Havers.

_She pauses but does not turn around; LYNLEY, however, turns from the window to continue:_

LYNLEY  
_(brokenly)  
_Barbara, please…  
_(a final entreaty of quiet despair)  
_I thought you weren't going to leave me alone tonight.

_HAVERS turns and comes back toward him slowly, almost automatically, as though programmed to respond to his command or – in this instance – plea. Her eyes are full of compassion but her body language is perplexed: should she hug him? Hold his hand? Simply gaze up at him with those wide, nonjudgmental eyes? She is a step or two away when LYNLEY takes initiative, seizes her by the shoulders and pulls her to him in a desperate embrace. He breathes raggedly once or twice – a last flail for composure – and then is sobbing his heart out, clinging to her like a life raft, tangling his fingers in her still-curled hair as he crushes her against him in grief. HAVERS slips her arms around his waist and makes an effort to breathe deep and evenly, but she is clearly blinking back tears of her own._

**INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S ROOM – NIGHT.**

_LYNLEY, still in his evening clothes, is lying on the bed in exhausted slumber. HAVERS – also still in her evening clothes, though her delicate curls are mussed beyond repair – is lying in his arms, her face tucked against his chest and her arms curled so tightly around him that one half imagines them to be frozen in place. She is roused by a knock at the door and sits up a little in an effort to ascertain where it is coming from – namely, the door of her adjacent room, not LYNLEY's. The knock comes again; HAVERS gives a weary sigh and leans up to kiss LYNLEY's forehead. She strokes his hair for a moment, then disentangles herself from him and carefully gets up from the bed._

**INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. HAVERS'S ROOM – NIGHT.**

_HAVERS opens her door a crack to see THOMAS CRAWFORD on the threshold, still in his bloodstained evening clothes and looking like death warmed over._

THOMAS  
_(feebly)  
_I'm sorry, Sergeant. I didn't know where else to go.

HAVERS  
You came to the right place.

_She unhooks the door chain and lets him in, and they stand about awkwardly for a moment, THOMAS not really looking at HAVERS._

THOMAS  
Um…the funeral's gonna be tomorrow, if you want to come.

HAVERS  
Tomorrow? Isn't that a bit soon?

THOMAS  
_(bitterly)  
_Yeah, maybe she'd rather spend the weekend on a slab.

_In a manner as like his father's to be almost eerie, he crosses to window so he doesn't have to look at her._

THOMAS, CONT.  
I didn't figure it was worth waiting. Not like there's family coming to town for it. Not like there's any family left.  
_(hesitates a moment)  
_And as long as she's "here;" as long as I can see her face…  
_(sniffs)  
_I just want it to be over.

HAVERS  
_(softly)  
_Rushing the funeral won't make it easier, Tom.

_He turns sharply._

THOMAS  
You think I don't know that? You think I'm gonna wake up the day after tomorrow and not remember that my mum threw herself in front of a gun to save some prat that Granddad claims was my father? Who never gave her anything, just got her pregnant and ran off to the House of Lords?

HAVERS  
_(subtle observation)  
_Lynley was never in the House of Lords –

THOMAS  
_(angrily)  
_And what did he ever do for her? Hmm, Sergeant? What did he ever do for my mum that would make her throw her life away the night she got everything she'd ever wanted?

HAVERS  
I think you've answered your own question.

THOMAS  
_(darkly)  
_How's that?

HAVERS  
Everything Del wanted wasn't a fabulous art exhibition and offers from London. She wanted Thomas Lynley. She wanted your father back, Tom; wanted him in your life –

THOMAS  
At the cost of leaving it herself?  
_(raggedly)  
_Why did she do it, Sergeant?

_He comes forward to grab her by the shoulders and shake her._

THOMAS, CONT.  
_(agonized)  
__Why?_

HAVERS  
_(calmly, without hesitation)  
_Because she loved him.  
_(looking up into his eyes; gently)  
_We do all kinds of mad things for the people we love, Tom.

_THOMAS closes his eyes in a sob; HAVERS does not wait for further invitation but quietly curls her arms around his waist and tucks herself against him. After a few moments he releases his grip on her shoulders to wrap his arms about her and weep in earnest._

**INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. HAVERS'S ROOM – NIGHT.**

_THOMAS CRAWFORD, divested of the bloodiest of his clothing, is curled up on HAVERS's bed in sleep that is anything but restful, while HAVERS sits silently beside him, stroking his hair. After a moment she gets up and covers him with a blanket from the closet, then goes to the adjoining door and pauses, as though contemplating both options._

HAVERS  
_(quietly)  
_I must be out of my mind.

_She walks through to LYNLEY's room and closes the door behind her._

**INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S ROOM – MID-MORNING.**

_HAVERS is lying beside LYNLEY again – holding him, though not so tightly now – with a duvet or two thrown over them. Both are soundly asleep when LYNLEY'S mobile rings. HAVERS starts awake and reaches to take it out of his jacket (which he is still wearing), then leans away from him a little to answer, softly:_

HAVERS  
This is Sergeant Havers. Yeah, I know it's his phone; he, um…This afternoon – yeah, um…I saw Tom last night for a bit. Yes sir, I'll tell the inspector.

_She closes the mobile and settles back against the pillows for a moment, contemplating her still-exhausted bed partner, then she sighs and gets up from the bed._

**INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. HAVERS'S ROOM – LATE MORNING.**

_THOMAS CRAWFORD, lying on his back on the bed and looking quite reluctant to go anywhere else for a very long time, is silently watching a normally dressed HAVERS fussing, a bit helplessly, trying to fold her borrowed dress from the night before._

THOMAS  
Sergeant…

HAVERS  
Um…"Barbara" 's all right, if you want.

_She attempts a small smile, and he acknowledges it with a weary smile of his own._

THOMAS  
Barbara. I wanted to ask, um…what you know about cemeteries in London.

HAVERS  
_(startled)  
_What?

_He sits up to explain, maintaining the blanket wrapped most of the way around him as he does so, though he is still fully clothed in his undershirt, trousers, and shoes._

THOMAS  
_(awkwardly)  
_The, um…the funeral's today, but the burial…I can't let them – not here. All Mum wanted was to get out of Oxford, to London…I think she should be buried there, but I just don't know – with expenses and things…

HAVERS  
Um…you _do_ realize, Tom, that your dad –

THOMAS  
_(darkly)  
_Yes, what about DI Lynley?

_Caught off-guard by his vehemence, she endeavors to explain with a trifle more delicacy._

HAVERS  
Well, I mean – I'm sure if there's any extra expense, he'll see to it. Might even have a place for her in Cornwall, if you think she'd –

THOMAS  
_(abruptly)  
_I don't know. We didn't talk about it much, if you can imagine.

_There is a knock at the adjoining door._

LYNLEY, O.S.  
Havers? Can I come in?

_THOMAS goes rigid and glares accusingly at HAVERS._

HAVERS  
Um, I don't think that would be a good idea, sir –

_Her warning comes too late; LYNLEY is already pushing open the door. Still in his hopelessly crushed evening clothes, he looks utterly grief-wracked with dark circles beneath his eyes and unforgivably mussed hair._

LYNLEY  
Forgive me, Barbara; McAllister's just rung and –

THOMAS  
_(derisively)  
_And what did he want, Inspector?

_Startled, LYNLEY looks at the bed where THOMAS is sitting._

LYNLEY  
Tom.

THOMAS _glances meaningfully between LYNLEY and HAVERS_

THOMAS  
_(caustically)  
_So, what: you're shagging her too – your pretty sergeant? Can't last a night without a woman in your bed.

_He gets up, throwing aside the blanket and snatching his bloodstained clothes off a chair back._

HAVERS  
Tom, don't be ridiculous –

THOMAS  
_(to LYNLEY)  
_You disgust me, Inspector.

_He storms out the door._

LYNLEY  
Thomas, please – !

_The door slams shut. A dazed LYNLEY sits on the edge of HAVERS's bed._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(wearily)  
_When did he get here?

_She stands about awkwardly as she endeavors to respond._

HAVERS  
Last night – well, this morning, really. Real early – two, maybe.

LYNLEY  
_(without accusation, simply thinking aloud)  
_So: he spent the night with you?

HAVERS  
_(slightly evasive)  
_Um…well, I stayed till he fell asleep. You know, made sure he was okay, and, um…

_She trails off with a small helpless gesture; LYNLEY looks at her with eyes that seem to know all, only too well._

LYNLEY  
Thank you.

_HAVERS quickly tears her gaze away and goes to fuss with the dress again._

HAVERS  
Yeah…so, um, McAllister rang again?

LYNLEY  
The funeral's at half one.  
_(opens his mouth to continue but hesitates a moment)  
_He, um…he didn't say anything about burial arrangements.

HAVERS  
Yeah, um…Tom and I were discussing that when you came in.

_LYNLEY draws a ragged breath and buries his face in his hands. When next he speaks, it's agonizingly clear that he's crying._

LYNLEY  
What am I gonna do, Barbara?

_HAVERS abandons the crushed pile of fabric and cautiously sits beside him on the bed._

HAVERS  
Well…you don't _have to_ do anything, sir. Thomas Crawford is a grown man –

_He raises his head slightly but does not look at her._

LYNLEY  
Thomas Crawford is_ my son_.

_There is a moment or two of silence as they both absorb this admission._

HAVERS  
_(softly)  
_I know, sir.

LYNLEY  
_(without looking at her)  
_How long have you know?

HAVERS  
_(smiling slightly)  
_Since the first moment I saw him. He's the spit 'n' image of you, sir.

_She cautiously raises a hand to brush a bit of hair back from LYNLEY's face – an unprecedented intimacy that she would never have presumed in any other circumstances._

HAVERS  
Talks like you, even moves like you.  
_(with some reassurance)  
_He'll be all right, sir.

LYNLEY  
_(quietly, with conviction)  
_No he won't.  
_(pauses a moment)  
_And neither will I.

_His face returns to his hands as HAVERS looks on helplessly._


	23. Son of Lynley

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Pilot Episode: "Sins of the Father"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.

**INT. CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL. NAVE – AFTERNOON.**

_ADELE's casket is placed at the crossing between the nave and quire, draped with lilies. THOMAS CRAWFORD is sitting in the foremost pew in the nave with LETICIA COPLEY (a diminutive, pretty lady of about 70, dressed neatly in black). MCALLISTER and the rest of the POLICE are a couple of pews behind him, while KIP FINNEGAN and KATHERINE BRAMWELL, together with ALAINA MORRIGAN and her husband ALASDAIR MORRIGAN (an attractive dark-haired man in his mid-30s), are seated opposite him on the other side of the aisle. HAVERS and a very gray LYNLEY are sitting a few pews behind the OXFORD POLICE, and behind them sit an assortment of other MOURNERS – including, inconspicuously, RUSHWOOD, lurking toward the rear of the church in a designer black suit, not unlike a fashionable vulture. FATHER COPLEY stands in the pulpit, calm and composed, though grief has not left him unmarked. The lines and hollows of his face have deepened overnight; he looks closer to 90 then 70. His voice is soft and gentle as he recounts his role in ADELE's past._

FATHER COPLEY  
Adele was the most beautiful woman I have ever known. It wasn't merely her stunning physical appearance that made her so, but rather the selfless love she carried for her son Thomas…and for his father, whoever he may have been.

_HAVERS quietly sets a hand on LYNLEY's hand where it rests on his leg._

FATHER COPLEY, CONT.  
She was dear as a daughter to me, those four months she spent at The Ruskin. Oh, she'd not have thought of me as anything like a father, surely not then, but she was forever huddled in some corner of this place, sketching her own characters for the stained glass windows, and we quickly became something of friends. Not dear enough, however, for me to remark upon the growing evidence of her pregnancy…

_He trails off with a heavy sigh._

FATHER COPLEY, CONT.  
I daresay I was the last to see Adele the night she left Oxford. I was at the rail station, awaiting the arrival of some holiday visitors, when I spied her on a bench, laden with her suitcase and rucksack. She was…heavily pregnant, plainly dressed in a man's old jumper with her wonderful hair loose about her face, and I took the opportunity to remark on her resemblance to the Blessed Virgin of so many Christmases before.

_FINNEGAN gives a small, choked sob at this. FATHER COPLEY smiles sadly at the assembly, but the expression is impossible to maintain more than a moment._

FATHER COPLEY, CONT.  
Her plan was to take the first train anywhere; I gave her the address of my dear sister in Reading and begged her to go there. I also offered to help her track down the baby's father, as I should have done, oh, so many times before, but she refused. I shall never forget her reply: "Why would I wish to bring pain to the man who's given me such an amazing gift? The man I love more than my own life?"

_LYNLEY's composure promptly cracks with a ragged exhalation – the prelude to sobs. HAVERS takes his hand in both of hers and grips it as tightly as possible without breaking the bones._

FATHER COPLEY, CONT.  
I will remind you all that Adele was then just turned eighteen; pregnant, friendless, virtually penniless, and in the process of giving up her best chance of a brilliant art career simply to have the child of some boy she would never see again. And yet…I don't believe I have, to this day, seen any sight more beautiful than her face that night.  
_(shakes his head at the memory)  
_She was an amazing woman, was Adele. She raised a son whose policing work has spared pain for so many, and at the last gave up her own life for the police inspector who was protecting her – a man she had known for barely a day.

_He pauses for a considerable moment before continuing:_

FATHER COPLEY, CONT.  
_(assertively, albeit still in his soft, gentle voice)  
_I am sure there are those among you who see this tragic event as prime grounds for an aggressive search for Tom's father – but I tell you, now more than ever, Adele would not wish it. Her focus was ever on her son, and that is where ours must be. I ask you all, who knew and loved Adele Crawford, to reach out and help sustain our Christian brother in this hour of complete loss. Honor our beloved sister and friend by caring, in her stead, for the one thing in all the world she truly treasured.

_He gazes down at THOMAS, whose eyes are calm but bright with tears._

**INT. CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL. NAVE – AFTERNOON.**

_The assembled MOURNERS are slowly, silently trickling out of the church. THOMAS CRAWFORD still sits with LETICIA COPLEY at the front of the nave, his eyes lingering on the empty crossing where ADELE's casket had stood – as though, at the absence of his mother, he has ceased to exist. MCALLISTER comes up to reassuringly clap his shoulder – a gesture of encouragement that seems somehow appropriate – and FAIRCHILD and ROTHEBY do the same. FINNEGAN ducks down to hug him about the shoulders, and KATHERINE BRAMWELL strokes his cheek with her fingertips and murmurs something inaudible but consoling. ALAINA and ALASDAIR MORRIGAN follow suit; ALASDAIR murmurs a condolence, and ALAINA sits beside THOMAS for a brief moment, holding his hands and murmuring her own comfort._

_A grayer-than-ever LYNLEY stares in THOMAS's direction, at once desperate to speak with him and terrified of doing so, and gets to his feet, followed by HAVERS, but before he can take a step one way or the other, FINNEGAN and KATHERINE are before him, pausing in their exit from the church. KATHERINE hugs LYNLEY at once, to slight surprise but greater gratitude._

KATHERINE  
_(gently)  
_You're a very lucky man, Inspector.

LYNLEY  
_(calmly, neither curious nor contradictory)  
_And why is that, Miss Bramwell?

KATHERINE  
You're the only man Adele ever loved. And no matter how briefly you knew her, I think you realize exactly how much that means.

LYNLEY  
_(quietly)  
_I do. But thank you just the same.

_He looks over at FINNEGAN with shadowed, sorrowful eyes._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
Kip, old friend…

_FINNEGAN pulls him into a brisk, gruff hug._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(with soul-deep pain)  
_This would never have happened if she'd chosen to love you – none of it.

FINNEGAN  
_(with a regretful smile)  
_Yeah, well, I had my chance twenty-six years ago.

_LYNLEY frowns – this is the first time anyone's referenced _26_ years._

FINNEGAN  
_(recalling)  
_She dumped three pints of bitter over you. I berated her like a lackey and you reassured her like an equal – _and_ you're better looking.  
_(grins crookedly)  
_It was never in question, who she'd fall for.  
_(before LYNLEY can speak, he adds)  
_Anyway, I should be thanking you. Katie here'd never have looked at me twice if she hadn't stumbled across me in a pub crawl, up to my eyes in lager to drown my unrequited love.

_KATHERINE slips a hand through FINNEGAN's._

KATHERINE  
_(lightly)  
_You lads are never more appealing than when your world has come to an end. All the posing and bravado are gone, and more often than not, underneath it all, you turn out to be someone we really rather like.

_She looks directly at HAVERS as she says this._

FINNEGAN  
I wasn't meant to raise your son, Tommy – though, God knows, I'd've done it in a heartbeat.

_LYNLEY looks at him in surprise._

LYNLEY  
You knew?

FINNEGAN  
_(chuckling softly)  
_Oh yeah – prob'ly before she did. I offered, even, when she was still at uni, but she wouldn't have it.  
_(shakes his head)  
_Ah well. Del raised him perfectly on her own – well, with the Copleys lendin' a hand – and unless I'm much mistaken, it's your turn now.

LYNLEY  
_(echoing)  
_Mine?

_He glances up to where THOMAS is still seated, with both LETICIA and FATHER COPLEY now, and sighs, giving a weary shake of his head._

LYNLEY  
Thomas Crawford doesn't want me in his life, and he certainly doesn't need me.

FINNEGAN  
_(softly)  
_Yeah, he does.

_LYNLEY looks up at THOMAS again; the COPLEYS are getting up, though THOMAS makes no move to join them, and LYNLEY takes half a step toward his son when –_

LYNLEY  
_(whispers)  
_I'm sorry; I can't…

_He turns and walks quickly away down the center aisle. FINNEGAN, unsurprised by LYNLEY's behavior, turns to HAVERS._

FINNEGAN  
Give him time – both of them.

HAVERS  
I will.

FINNEGAN  
_(by way of a goodbye)  
_Sergeant.

_He catches her hand briefly, then retreats down the aisle. HAVERS looks after him as he goes, then turns back to KATHERINE – the one person, save ADELE, who's managed to get under her guard – and for a split second, it looks like her quiet sanity is about to shatter._

KATHERINE  
_(simply)  
_Right, come 'ere.

_She grabs and hugs HAVERS fiercely._

KATHERINE  
You _will_ remember to look after yourself, won't you, in and amongst taking care of those two?

HAVERS  
_(honestly, though she ventures a small smile at the query)  
_Prob'ly not.

KATHERINE  
Here – you have your mobile?

_HAVERS looks about herself helplessly and finally finds the mobile in her coat pocket; KATHERINE takes it and quickly programs herself in before handing it back._

KATHERINE  
Anytime you need anything –  
_(insistently)  
__Anything_. Day or night. Even if you just want to talk – you know.

_HAVERS hugs KATHERINE impulsively, startling (and slightly embarrassing) herself._

HAVERS  
Um…thanks.

KATHERINE  
_(smiling gently)  
_Take care of them – and you.

_She walks down the aisle after FINNEGAN, leaving HAVERS alone to go and offer her condolences. THOMAS is sitting alone now, still in the foremost pew, still fixated on the place where ADELE's casket had stood. HAVERS comes up to him and rests a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up at her like a wounded little boy._

HAVERS  
Can I give you a lift?

THOMAS  
_(quietly, hopelessly)  
_Where?

_She sits down beside him and pulls him into her arms, stroking his back with one hand._

HAVERS  
Look, I know you're in hell right now, but…I just want you to know, you're more than welcome to come with us.

THOMAS  
_(addressing her shoulder, caustically)  
_What, you and DI Lynley?

HAVERS  
_(carefully)  
_Me and your dad.

_He pushes her away, not cruelly but with definite anger at her suggestion._

THOMAS  
I'm fine as I am, thanks.

HAVERS  
_(acknowledging this, though it's a patent lie)  
_Fair enough.

_She looks at him for a long moment, then leans forward to kiss him on the cheek._

HAVERS  
Goodbye, Tom.

_He closes his eyes and lowers his face as she walks away._

**INT. CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL. NARTHEX – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY is lingering just inside the door, waiting for HAVERS, when RUSHWOOD approaches him._

RUSHWOOD  
_(with perfect, emotionless courtesy)  
_Lord Asherton, forgive me for intruding at such a time, but I wondered if I might have a word.

LYNLEY  
_(reluctantly)  
_Very well; what can I do for you, sir?

RUSHWOOD  
_(delicately)  
_I understand you were a – patron, of sorts – to Adele Crawford, were you not?

LYNLEY  
_(shortly)  
_Yes, what of it?

RUSHWOOD  
_(frankly)  
_I infer from your behavior that you were also her lover.

LYNLEY  
_(without denial)  
_What do you want, sir?

RUSHWOOD  
_(his tone now is all business, albeit not without some small satisfaction at his assumption proving true)  
_You'll recall, I spoke with Adele yesterday regarding a series of paintings, to be loaned our gallery for the spring season. I have since spoken with my colleagues at the Tate Britain, in light of this recent tragedy, and we wish to –  
_(he chooses the word carefully)  
_- amend – our request.

LYNLEY  
_(frowning)  
_You wish to cancel?

RUSHWOOD  
_(smiling tightly)  
_Not as such…  
_(putting on the figurative kid gloves)  
_My lord, I – and my colleagues in London – are of the mind that, owing to this recent tragedy, there may shortly be an influx of interest in Miss Crawford's work. As a witness to the – favorable relations – between Tate Britain and the artist in question, we hoped you might, perhaps, see your way to supporting a claim on behalf of Tate Britain to promptly –  
_(he clears his throat pointedly, much as he did with ADELE at this point, though the meaning here is starkly different)  
_- acquire – Miss Crawford's full collection.

LYNLEY  
_(sharply rephrasing RUSHWOOD's request without its politic trappings)  
_You want all of Adele's paintings _now_?

RUSHWOOD  
_(without denial)  
_It sounds rather unfeeling of us, put just so, but surely you can see the sense in it. Miss Crawford made no secret of her love for Tate Britain, going so far as to say, in my presence, that she should like nothing better in the world than to be granted a special exhibit of her works in our gallery.  
_(intensely, leaning toward LYNLEY a little)  
_We can make that happen, Lord Asherton. In light of this recent tragedy –

_LYNLEY bristles at this third reference to ADELE's death as "this recent tragedy."_

RUSHWOOD, CONT.  
My colleagues and I are prepared to reconfigure our schedule – our gallery, truth be told, and an unprecedented honor, you may be sure – to create a special exhibition of Miss Crawford's paintings. If all goes as planned, her works could be on display before Christmas –

_LYNLEY has heard quite enough._

LYNLEY  
_(in cold fury)  
_Do you realize what you are _saying_, Mr. Rushwood? Adele Crawford – "the artist in question," as you put it – was shot and killed last night at the grand opening of her exhibition. _By her father._ In full view of her son. You try to euphemize it as "this recent tragedy," thinking these pretty phrases, coupled with your presence at her funeral, will win you exclusive rights to her life's work –

_His voice has risen in anger, causing RUSHWOOD, despite his composure, to shrink back ever so slightly. LYNLEY pauses a moment to collect himself before continuing:_

LYNLEY  
_(vehemently)  
_It's fortunate for you that I have no legal claim to Adele's work. I'm afraid you'll have to repeat your proposal for her son –

_He turns brusquely to leave, HAVERS or no HAVERS, but RUSHWOOD has one final card to play._

RUSHWOOD  
_(lightly)  
_Your son.

_LYNLEY turns back, not quickly, as he is well past the point of being shocked or concerned that others have this knowledge._

RUSHWOOD, CONT.  
_(his tone is reassuring, though his words bear a threat)  
_The Tate puts little stock in gossip and rumors, my lord, save for when they might impact a forthcoming exhibition.

LYNLEY  
The way I understand it, sir, I'm already twenty-five years overdue for blackmail. By all means, do your worst.

RUSHWOOD  
_(feigning horror at this accusation)  
_Who said anything about blackmail, sir? I'm simply urging you to see the positive side of this terrible event. Surely you of all people must admit that Adele would want –

_LYNLEY whips forward to grab RUSHWOOD by the throat._

LYNLEY  
_(viciously)  
_How _the hell_ can you presume to know what Adele would want? She's nothing more than a commodity to you –

_As though on cue, HAVERS is suddenly beside him, prying his hands off RUSHWOOD's throat._

HAVERS  
Let it go, sir.

_He looks at her, his eyes wild with fury and grief._

HAVERS, CONT.  
_(quietly)  
_Let it go.

_LYNLEY shoves RUSHWOOD away and walks out of the church; HAVERS flashes a murderous look of her own at RUSHWOOD before following LYNLEY out._

**EXT. CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL – AFTERNOON.**

_HAVERS catches up to LYNLEY, just outside the vast and glorious church._

HAVERS  
Sir, Rushwood only asked you because Tom already told him to go to hell.

_LYNLEY looks over at her in surprise._

LYNLEY  
In those exact words?

HAVERS  
Finnegan just told me; Rushwood caught Tom before the service and asked if he could have a word after…

_She trails off meaningfully, and LYNLEY looks away with a grim smile._

LYNLEY  
_(casually)  
_What time is it, do you know?

HAVERS  
_(peers at her watch)  
_Quarter of three, give or take.

LYNLEY  
Great – we'll beat the rush.

_He hands her his car keys; she looks over at him for a long, telling moment then pockets his keys and they continue down the cathedral walkway to the street. Unbeknownst to them both, THOMAS is standing in the narthex doorway, watching them depart, while RUSHWOOD lurks behind him, clearly awaiting a reply._

RUSHWOOD  
Mr. Crawford, if I may –

_THOMAS glances back at him._

THOMAS  
_(sounding eerily like LYNLEY in his sudden, posh dismissiveness)  
_I've your card, haven't I? If I should decide to entertain this offer of yours, I'm sure you'll be the first to know. Now if you'll excuse me –

_He walks out of the cathedral, leaving a slightly dumbfounded RUSHWOOD behind._

**EXT. ADELE'S LOCK-UP – LATE AFTERNOON.**

_THOMAS walks up to the storage unit, unlocks and slides open the door. The unit is reasonably small and contains primarily canvases – some framed, some not, all carefully wrapped for protection. He shuffles purposefully through the frontmost stack of these and draws out one, its wrapping labeled simply "Spring '82." He crouches down to tear at the wrapping and it falls away, revealing the completed version of the painting YOUNG ADELE had been working on in the flashback: a Pre-Raphaelite portrait of YOUNG LYNLEY, very much in the style of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and strikingly true-to-life. Even with LYNLEY bearing 25 more years of age and dissipation than YOUNG LYNLEY, it is still unmistakably _him_. THOMAS stares at it for a very long time._

THOMAS  
_(very softly)  
_Right.

_He carefully pulls the wrapping together to cover the painting once more, then rises to his feet and slides the door closed. _

**INT. A PUB – EARLY EVENING.**

_LYNLEY and HAVERS are sitting silently in a dark booth in a nondescript pub. LYNLEY is idly turning his half-full pint glass on the tabletop while HAVERS looks on._

HAVERS  
You know, sir, it sort of defeats the purpose of having a designated driver if you're not gonna drink.

_He sets the glass aside and sits back in his chair, though his hands linger on the tabletop._

LYNLEY  
_(listlessly)  
_I should probably ring Hillier.

HAVERS  
Actually, McAllister beat you to it. He was on damage control first thing last night.

_LYNLEY looks at her with the slightest flicker of interest at this news._

LYNLEY  
He told Hillier about our plan – the "protection" –  
_(his mouth twists bitterly at the word)  
_- we'd arranged for Adele?

HAVERS  
_(dryly)  
_The good news is, with three officers in the corridor when it happened, they can't exactly accuse us of negligence.

LYNLEY  
It still doesn't change what happened.

_His gaze returns to the tabletop once more, though he does not reach for his glass._

HAVERS  
I know.

LYNLEY  
_(softly recollecting)  
_I think Adele knew she was going to die the moment her father walked into the corridor. She was…holding onto me so tightly; I thought she was afraid. And she was…for my sake.  
_(suddenly)  
_What would drive Crawford to that? I mean, clearly, he worshipped his daughter –

HAVERS  
_(with a small, twisted smile)  
_Well – you were competition, for a start, sir. Single, working-class dad with a gorgeous, accomplished daughter – he'd've resented anyone who held her affections.  
_(sobering, quietly)  
_You were the first thing she'd ever fought him over – and the last.

_LYNLEY inhales sharply at the memory and HAVERS proceeds to study the tabletop._

HAVERS  
_(carefully, knowing her words may cause pain)  
_All Del ever wanted was to love you, sir. She knew – or thought she knew – you'd never love her back, but that didn't matter – and Crawford couldn't comprehend that. From his way of thinking, she was holding onto something that could only hurt her more – and that, on top of the anger any father feels when his daughter comes home pregnant, was enough to drive him mad. Mad enough, in the end, to think that the only way to protect her from you was to kill you…and forgetting, in the heat of the moment, that Adele loved you more than her own life.

_She squeezes his hand for a brief moment – a gesture of reassurance – then gets up from her seat._

HAVERS  
C'mon, sir. Let's go home.

_She tosses him the keys._

LYNLEY  
_(warningly – he sounds ever so slightly like his old self again)  
_Sergeant –

HAVERS  
_(smiling)  
_You've had exactly one half-pint in two hours – I think you're good. Not to mention, you know the roads.

_She walks out of the pub, LYNLEY tagging along behind her._

**INT. LYNLEY'S CAR – EARLY EVENING.**

_LYNLEY is staring fixedly ahead, while HAVERS is hunkered down in her seat like a teen on a road trip, peering out the window with a pensive frown._

HAVERS  
Okay, maybe I was wrong. This is the fourth time we've driven down this street.

LYNLEY  
_(without hesitation)  
_Fifth.

_She sits up a little, looking back at him in mild surprise at this observation._

HAVERS  
_(fishing slightly)  
_Um…is there some kind of landmark you're waiting for me to catch?

LYNLEY  
_(briskly)  
_Not as such, no.

HAVERS  
_(casually)  
_Right, okay.

_She settles back into her seat, presumably to enjoy the ride, but her next statement makes it perfectly clear that she hasn't missed a thing._

HAVERS  
_(offhandedly)  
_Have you considered - I don't know, maybe - just…_asking _him to come back with us?

_LYNLEY looks over at her with a start at this perception, then remembers who she is. His expression fades to one of pained resignation, and he releases a shallow breath before replying:_

LYNLEY  
I couldn't bear to hear him say no.

HAVERS  
What makes you so sure he would?

_He retains his sidewise glance as he recounts THOMAS's last words to him:_

LYNLEY  
"You disgust me, Inspector." Of course, then there was, "Go back to London and your wife and your mansions; I hate you."

HAVERS  
_(reasonably)  
_You'll recall, his mum'd just been killed –

LYNLEY  
_(sarcastically)  
_Yes, and this, being, what, almost 24 hours later? is surely all the grieving an angry young man requires.

**EXT. LYNLEY'S CAR – EARLY EVENING.**

_The Bristol pulls sharply up to the nearest curb._

**INT. LYNLEY'S CAR – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY closes his eyes in tearless anguish._

LYNLEY  
I can't bear it, Havers.

HAVERS  
_(nonchalantly)  
_Now you mention it, I could stand to have a drink. 'Scuse me.

_She gets out of the car and LYNLEY, momentarily appalled at her reply, realizes that he has unconsciously stopped in front of The Tangled Hare. There are a couple of lights shining through the dim windows of the taproom and one on the floor above, indicating that someone is at home._

**INT. THE TANGLED HARE. TAPROOM – EARLY EVENING.**

_THOMAS CRAWFORD opens the front door just a crack to see a surprisingly chipper HAVERS on the pub doorstep._

HAVERS  
_(brightly)  
_Bit quiet 'round here for a Friday night, isn't it?

THOMAS  
_(obviously, but not too unkind)  
_We're closed. Come back in six months. Trust me, with new management, you'll hardly recognize the place.

HAVERS  
_(with mock-disappointment)  
_Pity. I was _really_ hoping for one last pint before I leave town.

_In spite of himself, THOMAS cracks a small smile and opens the door widely enough to let her in._

THOMAS  
Right, one pint, then you're out the door.

_He locks the door again and adds, over his shoulder:_

THOMAS  
And it'll cost you double for the inconvenience.

**INT. THE TANGLED HARE. TAPROOM – EARLY EVENING.**

_HAVERS is sitting with a quietly contemplative THOMAS CRAWFORD at the bar, sipping at her pint of cider._

THOMAS  
_(cautiously)  
_Sergeant –

_She shoots him a look over the top of her glass; he amends his address with the tiniest bit more confidence:_

THOMAS, CONT.  
Barbara…I wonder if you can forgive me for what I said this morning at the hotel.

_HAVERS sets down her glass with a grin, perfectly aware of the line to which he's referring…_

HAVERS  
What, callin' me pretty? Aside from bein' a bold-faced lie, I din't see any harm in that.

_Even after all the trauma of the past several hours, THOMAS blushes a little at her remark._

THOMAS  
_(awkwardly)  
_No, I mean – with regard to…Inspector Lynley. I know that you and he aren't…like that.

_He pauses a moment in thought._

THOMAS, CONT.  
Well, I know _you_ aren't like that; the Inspector –

HAVERS  
_(supplying for him)  
_Has had a bit of a reputation now and again, yeah.

THOMAS  
Still – I never should've said.

HAVERS  
_(fairly)  
_Nah, you were entitled, I think. You came to me to get away from all that, an' the man responsible for your mum's death comes bargin' in like he owns the place.

THOMAS  
_(lightly)  
_Y' never know. He might, actually – own the place, I mean. He's an earl, right?

_He cracks a feeble smile at his own joke._

THOMAS, CONT.  
Anyway, Granddad's the one responsible for Mum's death. He'd gone a little crazy, even before, and I should have paid attention.  
_(self-deprecatingly)  
_And everyone thinks me such a great cop.

HAVERS  
You _are_ – worlds better than the rest of us. The Met won't know what hit 'em.

_He makes a noncommittal sound at this and looks away._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Sorry, s'pose I should've asked: what _are_ you plannin' to do now?

THOMAS  
_(disinterestedly)  
_Same as always, I suppose: go to work, come home –

HAVERS  
Yeah, but where's home gonna be?

_He looks up at her, not sharply, almost surprised, as if he'd not realized it was an issue of contention._

HAVERS, CONT.  
You can hardly stay here, let alone at your mum's –  
_(hastily rephrases)  
_- at the flat.

_He shrugs._

THOMAS  
The pub'll get sold soon enough; I'll get another flat.

HAVERS  
What, here in Oxford?

_They exchange looks once more; this time, THOMAS knows exactly what she's implying and frowns darkly._

HAVERS, CONT.  
_(gently)  
_Tom, whether or not you choose to accept it, you've got a dad outside who loves you –

_THOMAS scoffs._

HAVERS, CONT  
_(firmly)  
_- yes, _loves_ you, and wants desperately to know you –

_THOMAS turns away – here the equivalent of putting one's fingers in one's ears and humming loudly – and HAVERS catches his chin with a hand, forcing him to look back at her – not unlike a mother with a sulky teen._

HAVERS  
_(insistently)  
_No, listen to me. He was gutted at never knowing about you, and in case you forgot, he's grieving for your mum too.

_She sighs and drops the hand from his face._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Look, I know it's not the reunion your mum dreamt of, and –  
_(begrudgingly)  
_- in your position, I'd prob'ly feel the same way. But Lynley's a good man – the best I've ever known. And your mum gave up her life to save his, which should mean more than all the rest.

_THOMAS's face and voice are expressionless. It's impossible to tell in this moment whether HAVERS's words have made him think or only served to anger him further._

THOMAS_.  
_And why is that?

HAVERS  
_(softly and very serious)  
_Because she loved him. And no one in this world knows better than you exactly how much that means.

_She hops down from the bar stool and wrestles a £5 note out of her pocket, which she tosses on the bar next to THOMAS's hand. _

HAVERS  
_(cheerfully)  
_Right, here's five quid. Strictly speaking, I owe you six, but the company was too gloomy by half.

_He glances from the note to her face, still expressionless. _

HAVERS  
_(slightly more subdued)  
_I'll let myself out.

_She crosses the silent taproom and unlocks the door._

**EXT. THE TANGLED HARE – AFTERNOON.**

_LYNLEY is standing beside the Bristol, waiting, as HAVERS walks out of the pub._

LYNLEY  
How is he?

HAVERS  
_(taking slight and uncharacteristic exception to the query)  
_Well, be fair, sir: his granddad kills his belovèd mum and he finds out he's the bastard son of an earl, all in the same thirty seconds. How would you be?

_LYNLEY's only reply is a wince, and HAVERS is quick to reassure._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Nah, he'll be all right.

_She glances back at the pub for a long moment, then goes to the passenger side of the car, where LYNLEY opens the door for her. His eyes also linger on the pub's façade._

LYNLEY  
_(more to himself than to her)  
_It feels wrong, leaving him here.

HAVERS  
He's a grown man, sir. It's his decision.  
_(hesitates for a moment)  
_And while it would prob'ly be the stupidest in his life, he's got the right to make it. Come on.

_She gets into the car and pulls the door shut behind her. LYNLEY looks back at the pub one last time, sighs deeply, and walks around to open his car door when –_

THOMAS, O.S.  
_(calling to him)  
_Detective Inspector Lynley – sir.

_LYNLEY turns back with almost painful eagerness._

LYNLEY  
Tom!  
_(quickly amends)  
_I mean: Detective Constable.

THOMAS  
_(as though telling himself)  
_No – Tom's fine.

_There is a ponderous pause._

THOMAS, CONT.  
Might I come with you, sir?

LYNLEY  
_(in utter astonishment)  
_To London?

THOMAS  
_(evasively)  
_Yeah, the, um…the Tate really wants Mum's paintings, apparently…They're a commodity now that…Well, anyway, they want to put in a special exhibition. I thought I should go up there, maybe – negotiate the details and such.

LYNLEY  
_(at once disappointed and anticipant)  
_Just…for that?

THOMAS  
_(deadpan and noncommittal)  
_Well, and I imagine I should start looking for a flat, if the Met's serious about taking me on.

LYNLEY  
_(with almost embarrassing enthusiasm)  
_Of course they are!  
_(restrains himself to add)  
_Erm…of course you should.

THOMAS  
I'll just be a minute, then.

_LYNLEY smiles as THOMAS walks back into the pub – his first real smile, albeit bittersweet, since ADELE's death._

**INT. CRAWFORD'S FLAT. THOMAS'S BEDROOM – EARLY EVENING.**

_THOMAS walks into his bedroom, where sit two packed bags – clearly, he had been anticipating a departure long before HAVERS came into the pub. He picks up the framed photo of himself and ADELE from off his dresser, strokes a fingertip across her face, and carefully sets the worn Polaroid of YOUNG LYNLEY and YOUNG ADELE on top of it. He promptly puts both into the top of one bag, zips it shut, then hefts both bags and exits the flat._

**END CREDITS**

**Author's Note: **Feedback is most welcome - and will help me decide how soon I should finish Episode 2! It's loooong overdue, particularly for any Punch & Judy readers, but significantly closer to done than it was in October 2008! ;D It features loads of repercussions for the events in this episode, on top of a tangled new murder mystery, with lots of Tom and Havers banter to boot (one of my favorite aspects of the story, which the P&J readers also enjoyed)! Oh, and please don't hate me for killing off Adele! (While I had planned and even written drafts of her death from the earliest versions of this story, it still tore my heart out at the end - just reading that scene hurts!) She's not _entirely_ out of the picture...


End file.
